


Future Hyrule: Courage Never Dies

by Hylian Shadow (Hylian_Shadow)



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, Modern Era, Multi, Post-Series, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-29 07:57:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 104,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5120810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hylian_Shadow/pseuds/Hylian%20Shadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time erodes fact into myth, but there's truth behind every legend. The seemingly peaceful kingdom of Hyrule has a dark past, and when that past rears its ugly head once again, it's up to a historian with a greater link to the legends than he ever imagined, a soft-spoken mage who knows more than he lets on, and a lone shadow who remembers that which time forgot to stop those who wish to change the course of history forever.<br/>The life of a hero is so much more complicated than the legends ever said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story involves a weird timeline that involves all of the games and a mostly-modern-day version of Hyrule. Rewrite, expansion, and massive improvement of an older story of mine with the same name. Additional tags may be added as new characters are introduced, though some are left untagged to avoid spoilers. This story will have darker parts, and the relationships will not be perfect or even entirely healthy, but both of those should be expected since Dark Link is a major character. More warnings will be added as the story progresses.  
> Until then, enjoy!

The Poe in the Bottle is old, even for Olde Town. It's large, too, for a tavern: two stories tall, with four different bars in four separate rooms, plus several smaller rooms for groups or events. The imposing stone and wood-paneled walls are covered in neon signs, strings of multicolored lights, replica banners, and a long shelf covered with glowing, shimmering forms inside old glass bottles above each dark, highly-polished bar. Brightly colored ads for local brews hang between old weapons and modern lights designed to look like antique sconces, with even more strings of lights stretching between massive wrought-iron chandeliers.

In other words, the perfect place for a bunch of historians to meet after work.

Now which room is everyone in again? I think I remember something about staying on the first floor, but...

"Woo."

What the?

"Woooo! Spooky!"

I turn towards the voice and straight into a flickering blue light hovering right in front of my face. What is that and why is it  _ in my face? _

"Check it out, Link! Isn't it cool? You can buy light-up  _ bottles _ now!"

Is that what that light is? Yes, it is; it's a half-full bottle of something golden with an outer shell that lights up blue. And Ralph looks entirely too proud to be holding it.

"Don't you already have a light-up glass?"

"Four of 'em, actually, but they're glasses. This is a bottle!"

Yes, I can see that. "And can you actually take the bottle with you? This isn't going to be like that tankard, is it?"

"Not so loud! Besides, it's cool. I bought this one fair and square."

"You can't blame me for asking. Am I the last one here?"

"Nah, we're still missing like half the group. I came up here because I figured somebody needed to be the guide. We're in the Deku Lounge, so head on in, make yourself comfy, grab a drink, all that good stuff." Ralph brushes some of his red hair out of his face and gives me a broad, carefree grin. "And remember: we're here to celebrate, so who's counting, am I right?"

"If you say so."

"Yeah, I  _ do _ say so. And if you don't want it, then more ale for me! Oh, right! Boss-man seemed really happy earlier, so I think something's up."

'Something' could mean a lot of things. "Do you know what?"

"Nah. I tried asking him, but he said I have to wait like everyone else." Ralph rolls his eyes and takes a drink from his bottle. "So your guess is as good as mine. Anyway, head on over to the lounge. I'm going to stay out here and watch for the others."

"Thanks." The Deku Lounge is on the first floor, near the back. Unlike the front bar, the lounge has vines along the ceiling and hanging from all the lights and ferns hanging on the walls. Several of the tables have been pushed together to make a single longer one, and unneeded chairs line the walls. A polished silver tray full of empty glasses sits at one end of the table.

Ralph's right; roughly half of the Project is here, sitting scattered around the table in pairs or trios, except for one person with long lavender hair sitting off by himself at the end opposite the tray.

Of course he's over by himself, I think, walking over to sit down next to him. He doesn't look up; he's too busy cleaning his glasses with the end of his long navy blue shirt. He always looks so serious when he has his glasses off. Then again, he tends to look serious when he has them on, too, at least when he's around the rest of the Project. I swear he really only relaxes when it's just the two of us.

I drape my jacket over the back of my chair. "Hi, Vael."

He glances over at me. "Hm? Ah, hello, Link." He finishes cleaning his glasses and slides them back on. Then he brushes his hair back into place. Some of his long hair falls forward over his shoulder. It looks soft and smooth, unlike mine.

"'In the shadow of the Mountain of Death waits the ultimate fletch quest'," Vael says quietly, raising one eyebrow. "You'll have to explain that one to me."

"Huh?" I'm not staring, I swear. "What do you mean?"

"Your shirt. What is a 'fletch quest'?"

Oh, right. "Have you ever played an adventure game? They like to send you on fetch quests." I don't think he understands. "It's a quest where the entire point is to fetch something."

"I see, but I asked about a  _ fletch _ quest."

I sigh. "It's an archery pun, Vael. Arrows have fletching, so... fletch quest. I got this shirt at an archery competition called Bows over Death Mountain."

"Ah. That explains so much." Vael chuckles. I'm still not sure he gets it.

I hear a loud, deep laugh and turn towards it. Garrimed walks over to the table, tankard in hand, along with Ralph and a couple more of our coworkers. I'm so used to seeing Garrimed in his smith's apron or with soot smudged everywhere that it's  _ weird _ seeing him in normal, clean clothing. He really doesn't look any weirder than anyone else here, but the rest of us don't spend a good chunk of our time at a forge.

I'm thinking too much. We're all dressed pretty casually since we're in a tavern instead of on campus.

"May I have everyone's attention, please?" Chambers is at the other end of the table; when did he get here? He looks over a piece of paper before folding it neatly and sliding it into the pocket of his sweater-vest. "Now, all of us know that we're here to celebrate one full year of the Royal History Project.  _ However _ , it is my great pleasure to announce that this is not our only reason to celebrate tonight. I have just received word that as of next month, the members of the Royal History Project will be granted access to the Royal Archives Vault and all of the records and artifacts within."

"They're going to let us in?"

"I thought only the royal family has access to the Vault."

Chambers nods and chuckles. "We are very fortuitous that the Vault is about to be undergoing a massive inventory -- perhaps the first in centuries -- and the Project has been granted exclusive permission to assist with the task. We will be receiving crates of artifacts and documents to examine and record. I'm sure you all understand the significance of this."

I certainly understand. We'll be seeing things that have been locked away in the Vault for generations. Rumor has it that some of Hyrule's ancient treasures have been kept safe from the ages inside the Vault, and even if that isn't true, there's no telling what kind of information will be in those old archives. There may be entire hero's legends that have been otherwise lost to time sitting on the shelves in there, just waiting to be translated!

I'm probably being overly optimistic. Considering how my luck's been lately, I'll end up translating a bunch of land disputes or records of petty squabbles brought before some village council or something. No, there has to be something relevant to my work in there. There just  _ has  _ to be. Surely, the palace would protect important documents, and there's not a lot that's more important than the legends of Hyrule's heroes.

A cork popping pulls me out of my thoughts. It doesn't take long for glasses to be filled and for the glasses to reach everyone's hands. Everyone around me is laughing and talking; someone slaps me on the back.

"And now, a toast!" Chambers says proudly, raising his glass. "A toast to the end of a very successful year, and a toast to what should be a most fascinating year ahead. May we find something in the Vault that changes history as we know it! To the Royal History Project!"

"To the Royal History Project!" We all lean in over the table to clink our glasses together, laughing. We drink our champagne and spend a while congratulating each other.

Of course we do. We were all brought together a year ago for the specific goal of exploring Hyrule's past and trying to piece together the largest, most in-depth historical record of the kingdom ever made. We've still got a long way to go, but I want to think that we've proven ourselves. Since we're getting access to the Vault, that means we  _ have  _ proven ourselves, right? Maybe not, but that's how I'm going to take this until something actively corrects me.

Someone puts their hand on my shoulder. It's a  _ large  _ hand; I flinch at the touch. "So, Masters, what are the chances that we'll stumble upon something you can't translate?"

Oh, it's Garrimed. "I guess it depends on how old the things in the Archives Vault are. It's always possible that we'll find something that neither Historian Chambers or I can translate." I don't think that's likely to happen, but I don't know how old the documents we're getting access to are.

He shakes his head; one small braid sways free of the ponytail holding the rest of his thick red hair back. "I didn't ask about Chambers. I asked about you. Besides, you and I both know he's going to make his darling nephew do most of the work, and darling nephew's translation skills are  _ lacking _ ." He watches Ralph as he speaks. "How familiar are you with military terminology? I don't believe you've ever said."

"I'm not particularly well-versed in it, but I do come across it here and there. Several of the hero's legends  _ are  _ connected to wars, you know. If you're asking me to translate the military texts for you, Garrimed, then I don't think I know enough of the terminology." Besides, I normally just translate things for myself and occasionally Vael.

"I'm not asking you to do it for me. I'm simply saying that I don't know how much I can trust any translation done by the Project."

I furrow my brows, slightly confused. "You haven't needed anything translated in an entire year?"

"Not by the Project, no. I've been using Admiral Shiro's translations. I'm just curious about how useful our own translations will be to me. I know you're more familiar with legends, folk-tales, and folk history, and I'm certain Historian Chambers is only going to bother translating the texts that most interest him."

"Historian Chambers and I aren't the only members of the Project who can translate. We've got translators on staff, remember? You're worrying about nothing." Sure, Chambers and I know the  _ most  _ languages, true, but that doesn't mean we're the only ones who know  _ any _ . We've got at least two full-time translators in the Project.

"I never worry about  _ nothing _ , Masters." He narrows his gold eyes at me.

He can be  _ really  _ intimidating when he wants to be; I never can tell how much of it is a joke, either. I hold my hands up and cringe inwardly. "Okay, okay. I didn't mean that as an insult. I was just trying to say that you don't have to worry as much about Ralph giving you a bad translation as you seem to think you do. He doesn't really do much translation work  _ because  _ his skills are lacking."

"You could say he doesn't do much work  _ at all _ because his skills are lacking." Vael sets a tankard down in front of me and then reclaims his seat, glass of dark wine in hand.

"Historian Chambers brought him on for a reason," I reply. He's an expert in ancient art, or so he says. I'm not sure if I believe him, because I've never seen him doing any research or even having much to report in meetings. I swear all he does is act as his uncle's personal assistant.

Garrimed chuckles at that. He looks like he's about ready to say something, but then he nods at me and heads towards the bar. That's kind of sudden.

I reach for the tankard. "Is this for me?" It looks like mead, so I know it's not Vael's; Vael only drinks wine. It smells like the kind I like.

"Of course," Vael says, taking a sip of his wine. "I know what you drink. And here he comes."

"Thanks." Here who comes?

"Ah, here are my hero and my mage." It's Chambers and his weird little titles. I should've expected him to come by; he's probably making a point of talking to all of us. Chambers shakes my hand and then Vael's. "Congratulations to both of you for a successful year in the Project."

"Shouldn't we be congratulating you?" Vael asks. "This entire thing was originally your idea."

"Yes, but I could never have done it without everyone's help. I'm fortunate to have so many skilled people willing to dedicate themselves to preserving Hyrule's history. With all the progress we've made, I believe we all deserve to share in the congratulations."

I guess he has a point, but I have a hard time holding myself up as an equal to the Royal Historian. "Do we have any idea what's in the Archives Vault?"

Chambers chuckles. "Eager to get started, I see. As of right now, I don't have any good answers for you. I know there will be documents, but I don't know their subjects. I know there are artifacts, but I don't know what kind. It's possible that all we'll be examining will be minor royal trinkets and documents containing little more than Palace minutia."

"Possible, but not very likely." I want there to be more to this than a bunch of minutia. "This is the vault that the Royal Family has kept sealed to all but a few for generations; there  _ has  _ to be more to it than that."

Vael pushes up his glasses. "Yes, and you feel the same way, sir. Otherwise, you wouldn't have sounded so excited when you made your announcement."

Chambers smiles at that, his eyes shining beneath his bushy white eyebrows. "Of course I'm excited. This is the chance of a lifetime, and I'm honored that we get the privilege." He glances at his watch and nods to himself. "I hate to seem like I'm eager to leave, but I'm afraid I must be going. You're all welcome to stay and celebrate as long as you wish -- and I  _ do _ believe that you deserve to celebrate -- and I will see you back on campus next week. Enjoy your weekend, both of you."

I watch him leave. I wonder, does he have something he needs to do tonight, or is he just trying to bow out gracefully because he isn't much for celebrating? I haven't figured it out. All I know is that I've never seen him drink except for a glass of champagne on special occasions.

It doesn't really matter why he's leaving. All that really matters is that now the Project supervisor is gone, Ralph is still here, and we're in a tavern.

I take a long drink of my mead and sigh to myself. Last time I was in a tavern with Ralph, Ralph spent most of an hour on the karaoke stage singing badly and trying to get everyone else to join in. He could be a trained singer for all I know; I just know that when he's drunk, his singing is  _ painful _ .

"Trying to decide if you want to stay or go?" Vael leans back in his chair, swirling his wine in his glass. "Is there anything you really need to do tonight?"

"Nothing that needs to be done tonight, no."

"Then why not stay for a while? How long has it been since we were able to just go drinking?"

Or do much of anything besides grab the occasional quick lunch together, I think. We've both been buried in books lately. I sigh and finish my tankard. "I guess I'll stay, but only because you're here. I'll keep you company."

"I appreciate it."

I head to the closest bar to get another drink. In the short time it takes to do that, Vael moves out to a small table along one wall in the Officers' Barroom. It's hard to blame him. Garrimed is at one of the pool tables, but I don't see Ralph anywhere. I  _ do _ see that the tavern's starting to fill up for the night.

I check the schedule posted on one wall. Karaoke's tomorrow night. That will at least make it harder for Ralph to serenade us all with his "singing". I remember going to karaoke night back in Kakariko City with my friends, even though I usually didn't sing. Malon's the one with the good singing voice.

And I really shouldn't think about her right now. I'm going to go sit down.

"You look upset," Vael says as I sit down across from him.

"I'm just thinking too much." I take a drink and then toy with my tankard. It's tempting to get something stronger for my next drink, but I really shouldn't. I don't want to leave my motorcycle here overnight, so I need to be able to sober up enough to drive. Then again, if I'll be staying here a while, then I have some time to sober up, don't I?

"Do you need to talk about it?"

"It's nothing you haven't already heard." I'm just remembering my friends from back in Kakariko City. My friends and my former girlfriend. No, I shouldn't think about that. That just makes me second-guess moving to Northcastle. I've been here a year; that's long enough to  _ not _ second-guess my decision to come here. 

That doesn't keep me from missing Malon.

Vael shrugs. "If you need to talk, I'm willing to listen."

"I'll be all right. I think I just need some company right now."

He nods.

I spend a while watching the crowd and drinking. I'm not really trying to get drunk, just unwind a bit and maybe chase away a few painful memories. Someone finds the jukebox and starts playing some song with a strong beat I don't recognize. And Ralph reappears. He watches Garrimed play pool for a while, and then he starts wandering the tavern, light-up bottle in hand. I keep seeing him drink, but the bottle never seems to get empty.

No, I'm not going to fixate on how much he's drinking. I've got better things to do with my time, even if it's just sitting here watching people pass by. I shift position so I'm not facing the bar; as I move, my leg brushes Vael's. I pull my leg away as soon as I notice, but Vael doesn't seem to react. I brush his leg again and watch for a reaction, but I don't see one. He just sits there drinking his wine.

Well, if he doesn't mind, I guess I'll just leave my leg there. I like how this feels. Wow, that makes me sound desperate.

The music keeps going. I'm pretty sure it's a different song, but the beat sounds the same. It's kind of hypnotic, though that may be three tankards of mead talking. Right now, I don't care which it is.

"Hey! There you two are." Ralph stumbles up and leans on our table. "Thought you'd left."

Vael adjusts his glasses as he turns to face Ralph. "We've been over here for most of an hour. You must not be paying much attention tonight."

"Hmph. Maybe if you'd do something instead of hiding in the smallest barroom, I could see you. Anyway. Link, mind doing me a favor?"

I already know what he's going to ask. "I'm not going to be your wingman," I reply.

"Oh, come on. Just this one time. There's three of 'em, real hot ones. Let's go over there together."

"I'm  _ not _ going to be your wingman." I don't know why he keeps asking. He asks me this every time, and the answer never changes. Maybe if I was drunk, but probably not even then.

"Please? Just this one time?"

"No."

"Aww, fine. Be that way." He grabs Vael by the shoulder. "Vael. Do me a favor."

"I'm not going to be your wingman, either," Vael replies.

"No no no. I don't want you to be my wingman. You're too pretty. You'd steal all the women. Oh, hey, that's a good idea. You could pretend to be a girl and --"

_ "No."  _ Vael glares. 

Ralph doesn't seem to notice. "What? Oh, wait..." He glances between Vael and me. "I get it. You two are just gonna sit here and play footsy while your poor friend Ralph goes home alone  _ again _ ."

"We're not playing footsy!" My face feels hot as I jerk my leg away from Vael's. He didn't see that, did he? He couldn't have, right?

Ralph laughs. "Why are you blushing? Aww, do you think Vael's  _ cute _ ?"

"I -- I -- N-no, it's not like that at all!" He's more pretty than cute. I didn't say that out loud, did I?

"I thought you wanted help getting a date," Vael says, taking another drink.

"Well, yeah, I did. And then you made me feel like a third wheel."

"You must be  _ rather  _ lonely if that's how you feel. Link and I are simply sitting here drinking. Just like you, only far less desperate."

"Desperate? Me? Ha! I'm Ralph Chambers. All the ladies know me."

"Then why are you looking for a wingman?" I ask.

Ralph points at me and opens his mouth. Then he closes it and scowls. "Y'know, I actually don't know. Maybe you two would be useful if I was going after a  _ guy _ , but I'm not, so..."

"There's a table of women right over there. Why don't you go after them?" Vael snaps, an odd edge to his voice.

"Huh?"

"Right over there."

"Really?" Ralph turns and stares at something I can't see. "Well, hel _ -lo _ , ladies! Here, hold my ale." He shoves the bottle at Vael and then just lets go; Vael manages to catch the bottle, but not before a good half of it spills onto his shirt.

"Get back here, Ralph! Don't you  _ dare _ think you can just walk away!" Vael slams the bottle against the table and glares at where Ralph went. Something about his eyes doesn't look right; they look red instead of gray. It must be the lighting. There are a lot of colored lights in here.

"Vael, are you all right?"

He scowls and wipes what he can off of his shirt; even though he isn't touching it, the table rocks with the motion. "I stink. I'm going to wash this out."

"Okay." So much for lazing in my chair with my leg against Vael's like I  _ wanted _ . I think I prefer the bad singing to this. After a couple of minutes, Ralph comes back long enough to claim his bottle and chug the rest of his ale before disappearing again. I'm surprised he doesn't pester me again. At the same time, it means I don't have to deal with him, so I'm not going to complain.

My head's starting to get fuzzy. Does every song in the jukebox have the same beat? No, it has to be a different song. The beat is faster, pounding.

Someone takes Vael's glass; I'm not sure who and I'm not entirely sure when. I just know that it's there, and then it's not. I should have noticed that, shouldn't I? Maybe I should've gone home instead of sitting here and drinking. I bet there's a monster movie I could be watching.

Motion gets my attention; Vael tosses his shirt onto the table and slides easily back into his seat, filled wine glass in one hand. He's wearing a high-collared, form-fitting, sleeveless shirt, like a sleeveless turtleneck. It's weird seeing him in that; his arms look agile and graceful without all the cloth over them. His hair sways and moves like there's a breeze, but I don't feel anything.

He looks angry, really angry. I don't remember seeing him like this before. Annoyed, yes, but right now, he looks like he's about to attack someone. But Vael's not the violent type, so I can't be seeing this right. There's still something weird about his eyes; they look too bright, and they still look red. He's glaring off towards the bar. I think he's watching someone, but...

I was going somewhere with that thought. Don't remember where, though.

Am I even still in the tavern? I feel lightheaded, almost like I'm about to fall. But that can't be. I'm still sitting in my chair and leaning against the table. I shift so I can rest my head in one hand, though it takes a lot more effort than it should.

Vael drinks the entire glass of wine in one quick, smooth motion, and then he leans back in his seat and crosses his arms. His eyes look almost like they're glowing. It's got to be a trick of the light; I'm sure of it. That doesn't happen in real life, just in movies.

At the same time, there's something about glaring, glowing eyes that nags at me, something familiar and yet foreign, and it sends a chill down my spine. I know there's  _ something _ about this that I'm sure I've seen before. But what, and  _ where _ ?

Three or four tankards of mead shouldn't be enough to mess with my head like this. I massage the side of my head. This doesn't make sense. What am I trying to remember?

Vael's definitely-not-right gaze flickers over to me, and for a split second, that eerie, enraged glare is aimed right at me.

I don't hear the music or the crowd or  _ anything  _ anymore. I hear organ music echoing from above me. Water splashing against my boots. A low  _ screech  _ like a vehicle grinding to a halt. Bootsteps on stone filling a large room. Metal clanking loudly against something solid. Maniacal laughter booming in a too-small room. A bell ringing in the distance. Magic crackling in the air. A woman screaming. A beast roaring. So many sounds all at once, echoing in my head with the weight of centuries.

What is this? I feel like I'm falling --

\-- "The door is blocked! We have no choice... Head back to the sanctuary!"

I know where that is. There's nothing in our way as we run through the halls, either. Even the rubble's stopped falling. Weird. But it means that Princess Zelda and I don't have to dodge falling rocks any more. I just don't get why. No monsters, no falling rubble... It's almost  _ calm _ .

I don't like it.

"We're almost there, Princess." I say, trying to sound happy. If the castle isn't collapsing anymore, then what is the sanctuary protecting us from?

I'm almost to the sanctuary door when a bolt of lightning streaks down from the sky and strikes the stone in front of me.

"Heh heh heh heh... You will not escape, boy. Now you will see the true power of the light force... For I have become the master of this world!"

I yank my sword from its sheath. "That's what you think!" Everything flashes white --

\-- "He's trying to bury us," she gasps as we both start running again. "He seeks to bury us in the ruins of his castle!"

He doesn't bury us; we manage to get out of the castle before it collapses. I take the chance to finally catch my breath. It's all right. It's over now. Princess Zelda agrees with me, giving me a relieved smile.

I hear something; I think it's a bang. There shouldn't be any noise.

"What was that sound?"

I ready my sword. "Stand back, Princess." I'm prepared for something to leap out at me.

I'm not quite prepared for the rubble to explode outwards and for Ganondorf to leap into the air. He's glowing, crackling with energy. He doesn't speak; he merely gasps for breath and holds up his hand, the Triforce of Power flaring brightly.

And he's not Ganondorf anymore. He's a beast, a massive, hulking  _ thing  _ holding a pair of blades that are each larger than I am. He -- it -- the beast moves quickly, faster than something so huge should be able to move, and the beast knocks the Master Sword out of my hands. I whirl around in time to see it strike the ground near Princess Zelda tip first and sink into the stone. 

The beast behind me  _ roars _ as flames rise up between the Sword and me. What am I going to do now? --

\-- He falls from his horse, hitting the ground hard. I leap from Epona's back and charge, intending to finish this. He isn't as hurt as I think he is; he's clearly not as hurt as he should be. He climbs to his feet, cracks his neck, and draws a massive blade that gleams golden in the twilight. With a sharp laugh and a wave of his hand, he conjures up some kind of glowing barrier around the two of us.

"It ends now,  _ boy. _ " He gestures with his free hand for me to come to him, whistling a sharp note. I narrow my eyes and tighten my grip on my sword. I need an opening. I need to hold back and wait for an opening --

\-- How many more of these strange shadowy things must I defeat before this is over? Every time I think it's finally done, that shadowy mass just reforms and comes at me again.

How much more?

Wisps of shadows burst outwards as the rest of the figure collapses into a sphere. It stays there for a moment, staring at me with two piercing eyes.

"I will not let you destroy our world..." it hisses.

"Release the Wind Fish!"

The eyes close. In their place, one massive eye opens; the sphere grows two long arms that stretch across the room. It swings one arm at me, but I jump out of the way. Its claws rend the floor where I was just standing. Why does it keep getting stronger? --

\-- It's not moving. I think... I think it's dead. That was closer than I liked, but I'm still alive. It's enough.

All right, if the Thunderbird is dead, the path to the Triforce should be clear. But if that's the case, then why do I feel like I'm being watched? I don't see anyone or anything, so I cautiously make my way to the next room.

A strange old man is waiting for me, sitting up on a high balcony next to a gleaming golden triangle. "Ah, so you've come, I see..."

"I've come seeking the Triforce of Courage," I say.

"Of course you have, and you've done well to get this far. However, there is still one final test you must pass before you can earn the Triforce."

What? Everything I've done and it's still not enough? Very well, then. "I'll face your test, old man!"

"Good, good." He makes a grand gesture with his hands, and magic shoves at me.

I stagger backwards, just managing to stay on my feet, and then the magic  _ yanks _ and pulls  _ something  _ away; I fall to the stone floor. My body feels heavy, but I force myself to raise my head anyway. There's someone else in the room. I think it's a person. It's person-sized and person-shaped, but it's gray and black and wispy and ill-defined. It makes me think of a shadow, but shadows can't stand in the middle of a room.

And shadows don't have glowing red eyes.

"If you desire the Triforce," the old man says, "then you must conquer yourself."

\---

The stench of Ralph's cheap ale refuses to come out of my shirt. I glare down at the sink for a moment, and then I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. Stupid Ralph and his stupid ale and his  _ asinine _ need to go flirt with every woman he sees! Right now, I want nothing more than to stalk out there and slam Ralph against the nearest wall, but that won't change anything. As satisfying as it would be to go do just that -- and it would be so  _ very satisfying _ to see how high Ralph can bounce -- it won't make my shirt stink any less, nor will it make Ralph any less drunk.

It won't make Link any less drunk, either.

One of the stall doors snaps open and slams against the wall. I eye the door through the mirror, and then I force myself to take a deep breath, blow it out slowly, and take another. Count breaths; calm down. I'm accomplishing nothing here at this sink except working myself up more and more. The  _ stink _ should come out in the wash, and if it doesn't, then Ralph owes me a new shirt, yes?

I slide my glasses back into place and use the mirror to smooth down my hair. I feel a touch calmer now. Certainly not as calm as I should be, but all things considered, this is... acceptable. I don't feel particularly violent at the moment.

When I emerge from the restroom, Ralph is over by the pool tables. I feel like having another drink, so I get another glass of wine on my way back to the table. I toss my shirt onto the tabletop to get it out of my way and ease into my chair. Link looks drunk. No, perhaps he isn't  _ quite _ drunk, though he is clearly tipsy. He sits slumped against the table and staring off into the distance. He gives me an odd look; he's either confused or sleepy.

Ralph is at the bar, leaning in towards a couple of unfortunate women and waving his arms around animatedly. At some point, he refilled his stupid light-up bottle, probably with more of the same cheap, stinking ale. I suppose one has to stick to the cheaper options when one insists on drinking so much. Still, that ale has to taste terrible, so Ralph either just doesn't care or he has no sense of taste.

I could try introducing him to wine, but he'd simply try to get drunk on it.

The two women get up abruptly and leave the room, leaving Ralph behind. He turns to face the room, looking around for his next target. Then he sees me, raises his bottle, and grins broadly.

I meet his gaze with a glare. If Ralph has  _ any _ sense at all in that skull of his, he'll leave well enough  _ alone _ . I'm not in the mood to tolerate him further tonight.

Ralph stares over at us; is he waiting for a reaction? Link isn't looking in the right direction to even  _ see  _ him, and I would hope my glare is reaction enough.

And yet Ralph doesn't stop staring. The longer he stares, the harder I glare. Just go away. Go find someone else to bother, I think, and don't  _ dare  _ approach this table. I have to force myself to breathe slow and deep, in and out.

Finally, Ralph waves a hand at me in obvious dismissal before wandering off to some corner of the tavern or another. I see him leave the room, but I've no desire to chase him. I shake my head in disgust. I still have wine, don't I? I drink the entire glass in a single quaff. Perhaps I should order something harder... No, of course I won't. If I lose my self-control, Ralph  _ will _ end the night testing the integrity of some part or another of this structure.

The satisfaction isn't worth it. I simply need to keep that fact in mind.

Link makes a soft, pained noise and starts massaging one side of his head. Is he all right? I turn towards him --

\-- and his eyes snap open wide in shock and then roll back. Link slumps to the side, falling out of his chair and crashing to the floor in an undignified heap.

"Link!" I spring from my chair and drop to my knees beside him. I couldn't see the entire fall, so I have no way of knowing if he hit his head when he landed or not. "Link, are you all right?"

Link groans and furrows his brow. If he reacts, then that should mean he isn't unconscious. Or so I think; I'm no healer.

"Can you hear me?" I gently shake his shoulder. "Come on, Link, open your eyes."

Link grumbles something and opens his eyes just enough to squint up at me. No, he isn't looking at me. I scowl. His attention is focused at something between us. What is it?

Is he staring at my pendant? I shift the cord around my neck, making the pendant sway back and forth. Link tracks the motion with his eyes. I don't understand. It's a necklace. I'm well aware that it's normally under my shirt, but Link knows I wear it and has seen it numerous times. Why is he so fixated on it right this moment? He can't be  _ that  _ drunk, can he?

I snap my fingers; perhaps the sound will distract him. "If you can hear me, say something."

"Vael...?" Link finally mumbles. "What happened?"

Link recognizes me; that's a good sign. "I should be asking you that question. You just passed out and fell from your chair. How do you feel?"

He looks confused. "Groggy."

That  _ is _ to be expected. I consider asking him what he knows, but I doubt he has a coherent explanation. "Do you think you can sit up?"

"I think so?"

He's mostly able to sit up on his own; I help steady him while he moves.

A man with dark hair and skin kneels next to us, holding a glass of water towards Link. "Here, you should drink this. It'll help. You okay?"

"I'm kind of... heavy." Link takes the glass and stares down at it as if he doesn't know what he's seeing.

"He should be all right," I say.

"I'm  _ fine _ ," Link murmurs. He finally seems to recognize what he's holding and starts drinking the water.

I glance over at the stranger. Something about the man seems familiar, especially when he meets my gaze with amused red eyes and gives me a broad grin. Where have I seen him before...?

"He's awake and talking, so, yeah, he'll be fine," the man says. "Just had too much to drink."

Someone nearby laughs, and for a moment, several other people join in. Then they all go back to whatever they were doing before Link fell as if nothing happened at all. That suits me just fine. Link seems to be mostly all right. I don't particularly like being watched, and I know the attention is probably embarrassing Link -- though, admittedly, it's hard to tell if he's aware enough to be embarrassed. His face is flushed, but that could just as easily be from the mead or the fall.

I watch Link drink the rest of his water. "You need some fresh air."

"Yeah," the dark-haired man says. "And a snack. Something light, not greasy pub food. Oh, hey, there's a coffeehouse a couple of doors down; they should have something easy on your stomach. If nothing else, it'll be quieter than here."

Yes, it will certainly be quieter, and more importantly, it will be free of Ralph and anyone else who knows us. None of them are aware of Link's fall yet, and I plan to keep it that way. "Do you think you can stand, Link?"

"I don't know..."

I sigh. I understand that Link is groggy, but that isn't a useful answer. "Very well, then, we'll find out." I grab one of his arms and try to pull him up to his feet. "On your feet."

Link barely moves.

I take a deep breath. "Link, I'm trying to help you to your feet. You could at least  _ pretend _ to help."

"Sorry." He shifts position. I pull again, and this time Link lifts off the floor. He doesn't get his feet under him in time, however, and instead pitches forward and falls against me. I manage to catch him, barely, but I have to drop to one knee so we don't both crash to the floor.

This is rather awkward. "Link..."

"I'm trying!" Link mumbles.

The dark-haired man chuckles.

"What's so amusing?" I ask, keeping my voice low and giving the stranger a quick glare. Is he laughing because Link is drunk, or is he laughing because I'm shorter and thinner than Link? I fail to see why the latter is amusing, but clearly others disagree.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just fun watching him stumble around. Need a hand?"

This might be amusing. I wouldn't know, since I don't have the luxury of watching. "I won't turn away help."

"All right, then, on three. Ready? One, two, three!" The stranger hauls Link up to his feet almost by himself. All I really do is keep Link steady; I'm fine with that. Link seems a little shaky, but he's standing. It's a start.

Now that we're all standing, I can see that the stranger is slightly taller than Link, as well as a bit more muscular. He's wearing thick-soled black leather boots that look a lot like the riding boots Link wears. "Thank you. I appreciate the help."

"No problem!" He grins at me. "Do you need my help getting him to the coffeeshop?"

"As I said, I won't turn away help, but I don't want to inconvenience you."

"Nah, it's fine. I was headed that way myself."

I narrow my eyes. That has to be a convenient lie.

It isn't a long walk, only a couple of buildings down, just as the stranger said. Link spends most of the trip staring down at our feet. He's technically walking, but most of his weight is on the stranger and me. I'm thankful for the assistance; Link can be heavy sometimes. We ease Link into one of the chairs outside the coffeehouse.

We actually make it without Link stepping on my feet. I'm impressed and relieved.

"And here we are," the stranger says with a little laugh. He pats Link's shoulder. "Now you sit there and sober up. Oh, right. You'll probably want these, too." He tosses Link's jacket and my shirt onto the table.

When did he pick up those? No matter; his presence of mind saves me the trouble. "Thank you again for the help."

"Eh, don't mention it. It just didn't seem right to make you carry him around by yourself. I know how heavy people can be when they're drunk."

"I'm not drunk!" Link protests.

"Sure you're not." The stranger laughs again. "Ah, well. I'll leave you to him, then. Good luck!" With that, he steps back onto the sidewalk and heads down the block. I watch him walk away; he now has a black and red riding jacket slung over his shoulder that I know he didn't have earlier.

"Vael, who was that?"

"I don't know." I watch the stranger until he disappears into the mass of people on the sidewalk. Is he a mage? I don't recall sensing any magic, and yet I know he wasn't carrying a jacket when we left the bar. Perhaps I'm reading too much into it. Perhaps this is just the wine and frustration.

Ultimately, it makes no difference. I highly doubt I'll ever meet him again, so who he is doesn't really matter.

"I think I know him from somewhere," Link says.

"Oh? And where is this 'somewhere'?"

"I don't know. Just... somewhere."

"Is that you or the mead talking?"

Link leans forward on the table, propping his head up with his arms. He looks like he's about to fall asleep. "I'm not  _ that _ drunk, Vael."

I shake my head and adjust my glasses. "I find that hard to believe. Let's focus on more important things. Are you hungry? I'll get you something to eat and a bottle of water."

"Where are we?"

"We're at a coffeehouse. I'm not getting you coffee."

"I don't want coffee." Link closes his eyes. I'm not certain if he's thinking or dozing until he says, "I want a cookie."

I have to smile at that. "Then sit here and try not to fall out of your chair while I go get you a cookie." Link normally tolerates mead better than this. Neither of us are the kind to drink for the purpose of getting drunk, and on the rare occasion he  _ does _ get tipsy, he tends to start goofing around instead of staring into space and falling out of chairs.

No, I refuse to think about this anymore. I head inside the coffeehouse and buy our snack. Thankfully, Link's still in the chair when I get back outside, though he has his eyes closed again.

"You didn't fall asleep on me, did you?"

"No, I'm still awake." He opens his eyes and takes his bottle of water, carefully opening the cap. "That didn't happen."

"What didn't happen?"

"Monsters trying to eat me."

What is he talking about? I raise an eyebrow. "No, I don't remember any monsters. Just you falling out of your chair and a stranger helping me haul you over here."

Link nods. "Good. Then none of it was real."

"Are you  _ certain _ you're all right?"

"I'm fine. Really."

I don't believe him.

\---

_ Click _ .

Link is hilariously adorable when he's drunk. I have to remember this for later. And his friend -- Vael, is it? -- seems so caring. It's kind of touching, even if I'm jealous. Still, it's good to know that Link's got someone to watch his back, because he's really out of it.

I shift position on the little metal fence I'm sitting on. How do I always forget how much this telepicto lens weighs? Whatever; it's awkward, but it's worth it. Wish I could get a good shot of his eyes, though. They're such a beautiful blue.

Link's slowly eating a cookie, while Vael has what I think is a scone. Of all the things Link could eat while sobering up, he picks a  _ cookie.  _ That's perfect.

_Click._

Link rubs the side of his head. Even from here, he looks tired and confused and... shaken. Something has him spooked, but what? Absolutely  _ nothing _ even slightly dangerous is happening tonight or has happened at all recently. Well, okay, some of the monsters are getting worked up about their great king, but they're such a threat that I'm about the only person who notices. 

So yeah, things are so not dangerous that Link gets to spend his weekends doing this kind of thing.

_ Click _ .

Suits me fine. A few monsters here and there keep my sword arm strong and my skills practiced, even if it gets kind of boring waiting on them to make a move. But at the same time, I can do _ this _ , so it all works out.

I should wander back over to their table, introduce myself using the first name I think up, and talk for a while. There's no harm in talking to him, right?

No, I probably shouldn't. It might be better to catch Link alone. I'll have more freedom to talk that way, and I won't have to deal with Vael scrutinizing me. Vael's done enough of that tonight. And I really should catch Link when he's  _ sober. _ The last thing I need is him dismissing me as a hallucination or a dream or something stupid like that.

I shift on the fence again. This time I hook one of my boot heels on the railing so I can brace my lens against my knee. Oh, this works  _ so _ much better.

_Click._

And I'm out of blank slides. Damn. I look over at where Link and Vael are sitting. I need to reload, so just stay put while I take care of this, all right?

I rub my hands on my jeans to make sure they're dry and swap out the slides for a fresh set, tucking the old ones safely into a box and then the box snugly into my pictography bag. I'll make prints of these later.

Are Link and Vael still there? Yes, they are. Both of them seem to have finished their food. Vael is sipping his drink and seems lost in thought. Link rests his head in his hands and stares out towards the street.

Hm... Now that Link's leaning forward, Vael's in frame, too. I really just want pictos of Link, but eh, I can work with this. Vael isn't exactly hard on the eyes, either.

_ Click _ .

"Excuse me, sir, but I'll have to ask you to get down. We don't allow people to sit on the fence."

It's some waiter, clearly irritated. Tch, why do people keep getting so pissed when I perch on their fences? It's not like the fence does anything but mark their space. No one's using the damned thing, and it's not like I'm going to break it.

"I'm kind of in the middle of something here," I snap. "I'll leave when I'm finished."

Someone, probably the waiter, taps me on the shoulder and ruins my next shot. "Sir, please get off of the railing."

I  _ just  _ said I'll leave when I'm done. What more does he want? For his sake, I'd better be able to reuse that last slide.

"If you refuse to leave, I'll have to call the guard."

Ooh, he's going to  _ call the guard _ . Such a  _ mighty _ threat. Surely Hyrule's Finest can get me off of a waist-high metal fence before something  _ horrible _ happens!

I smirk. Seriously, I don't give a damn about the guards or the waiter. I've got a clear shot, and Link's over there  _ yawning _ .

_Click._

Perfect! That shot looks good in preview.

"I'm warning you! Get off the fence!"

"I will leave when I'm finished with this batch of slides," I growl. Link's half-drunk and cute over there; I want pictos of this for later reference.

"Sir, I don't care what you're doing. You need to get off the fence."

I turn towards him and start to snap at him, but then the alarm on my watch goes off. Shit, is it eight already?! As much as I want to stick around and keep taking pictos of Link, I need to get to that meeting.

Damn. Damn damn  _ damn _ . I take one last look at Link and Vael and snap one last shot. Then I shove my pictobox into my bag, zip it shut, and leap off the fence. I need to take the big lens off my pictobox at some point so I can pack it better, but right now, I don't care. I need to  _ move. _

I run for the parking lot, toss my bag into one of the saddlebags, and get suited up for the ride. All the while, the thought of going back and either talking to Link or hiding and taking more pictos lurks in the back of my head. It's so tempting, even if I know I need to go.

I start my motorcycle and pull out onto the street. As luck would have it, I end up stopped by a traffic light in front of the coffeehouse. Link and Vael are still there, though they're standing now. Link looks steadier now. I stare at him. That does it. I'm still going to that meeting tonight, but after that... I'll be around, Link. We'll run into each other again.

I  _ know _ we will.

But in the meantime, I have a meeting to interrupt.


	2. Chapter 1

"You're starting to worry me, Link."

I raise my head from the book I've been reading and blink a few times to make my eyes focus on the door. I see lavender hair, so it must be Vael. "What do you mean?"

Vael sighs. "I've been trying to get your attention for a good five minutes now, and you apparently didn't hear a word I said. I saw your light on and thought you'd forgotten to turn it off, but clearly you're still using it."

"What time is it?" I pull my watch out of my pocket, flip it open, and cringe. It's after nine, now -- I meant to leave over three hours ago. So much for watching the sunset; there's not even twilight left now.

I mark my place and close the book, tossing it on my desk before leaning back in my chair and stretching. I spend too much time in here lately. When was the last time I actually left the building while there was still light outside? It's been a couple of weeks, I think.

No, it's been over a month since the Project met at the tavern for our anniversary. The new semester here started two weeks ago; that's why campus is so busy during the day. Time just keeps getting away from me.

"Come on, Link. We should go. I know from experience that these offices are no place to sleep. You'll end up with all kinds of aches and pains."

"I know. It would be easier if we could take these with us." We can't. That's what happens when old books are involved. We're not allowed to remove them from the premises, and I'm lucky enough that this one is allowed to leave the archives; it means I'm not stuck in the basement. "What time does the last bus run?"

He looks out into the hallway. "I've already missed it. Would you be willing to give me a ride?"

"Sure." I load my bag and pull on my jacket. "Are we the last ones here?"

"Aren't we always?"

Not  _ always _ , but most of the time, yes. I really wish I could take more of my materials home. Then I could work from the comfort of a couch or my bed. Maybe I should use some of my vacation time and just go  _ somewhere _ . I don't even care where, just somewhere away from my office and the historical studies complex and the museum...

I grab my helmet and we leave, locking the door behind us. It's quiet outside. Of course it is. Everyone else has gone home for the weekend, so both the building and campus itself are empty. Music drifts on the breeze from the taverns and pubs over on University Avenue.

"We should do something one of these weekends," Vael says, looking off towards University Avenue. "We could go to some live music or grab a couple of drinks or something."

"Yeah, we should." I remember that weird vision thing I had at the anniversary party. I really should stop referring to it as a vision; that makes it sound important or prophetic. It was a  _ hallucination _ , nothing more. Nothing but my imagination, overwhelmed by music and alcohol and possibly something else, manufacturing images to go along with some of the legends that I've studied. Even if some of them don't match. 

I don't know why it bothers me so much. But then I don't really know why Chambers calling me 'hero' bothers me so much, either.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm just thinking."

"Ah, I see."

When we reach my motorcycle, I open the tank bag and pull out my riding goggles. "Here you are."

"Thanks." He tucks his glasses into a jacket pocket and then slides the goggles on with practiced ease. I hand him my shoulder bag, climb onto my bike, and slide on my helmet. I feel movement against my back as he climbs on behind me and makes himself comfortable. Once he seems settled, I head out.

Traffic is exactly what I expect it to be: heavy near University Avenue and lighter once we leave campus and Old Town. Well, it's as light as it ever gets in this part of Northcastle; even outside of Old Town, there's always some traffic. I need to decide which way I'm going, don't I? The turnpike is faster time-wise since it cuts across, but it's a little out of the way distance-wise. I know Vael prefers the turnpike because I can go faster and he seems to like it fast, but... No, tonight is one of those nights where I want to try to outrace my thoughts, and I  _ really  _ don't need to be going that fast with a passenger,  _ especially _ one who insists on not wearing a helmet.

So I stick to the surface streets. The traffic lights are as much of a pain as they always are. I really wish I knew why I always have such bad luck with the lights in this part of town. Even with all of the red lights, it feels like it takes no time at all to get to his apartment complex. I don't really understand. It should feel like more than a couple of minutes, right?

No, I keep losing track of time; this is just me doing it  _ again _ . I work my way to the tall building at the back of the complex where Vael's apartment is, dodging around the numerous and large speed bumps dotting the parking lot, and ease to a halt in front of his building.

I flip up my visor so I can hear him. "Here we are."

"Thank you, Link. I appreciate it." He gives me back my bag and the goggles; I store the goggles and adjust my shoulder bag so it's snug and comfortable.

"It's all right. I don't mind giving you a ride." I smile, but I know he can't see it with my helmet in the way.

He nods. "I want to make sure you know I'm not trying to take advantage of you."

"I just said it's all right. Besides, I remember what it's like to have to deal with the whims of buses."

Something moves on one of the third floor balconies, something small but fast-moving. I snap my head up for a better look, but I don't see it anymore. Wait, top floor, third from the left... That's Vael's apartment, isn't it?

"Is something wrong?" He turns to follow my gaze.

"I saw something move on your balcony." Is it an animal? It's definitely too small to be a person...

"Ah, it was probably just a Keese."

Huh. It  _ did  _ move like a Keese would, but... "I've seen Keese before, Vael. This looked a little too big for that."

He chuckles. "I'm no stranger to Keese, Link. It's nothing to worry about. It will be back in its little perch by sunrise."

I'm not sure I'd be quite so calm if it was flying around my balcony. Especially since Mikau would practically force me to go outside and chase it away. "You're probably right. I should let you get inside, shouldn't I?" And I shouldn't sit here idling. "See you next week."

"Assuming we don't get together this weekend, you mean. See you later." Vael gives me a wave and heads for the stairs.

I watch him until he opens his door; it feels like someone's watching me back. Once he walks inside, I flip my visor down and leave. I should probably just go home, but... I'm restless. The sky is clear and moonless, the weather is finally starting to cool off slightly, and it's just all around a nice night to be out doing something. This is perfect camping weather, but I don't feel like taking the time to swing by my apartment and load my gear.

Still, I can at least head out to Parapa Desert and stargaze a little. At some point, I should head out to Mount Parapa or the Stone Circle again. I'd much rather go to either of those than the shore; they're peaceful and ancient. It's a weird thought, but they're just comforting places.

The desert isn't quite so comforting, but there's next to no traffic at night, and there are several pull-offs and overlooks and rest areas. The mountains between the desert and Northcastle cut down on the skyglow, too.

Besides, I need to get out of Northcastle and go for a nice, long ride, and this is a perfectly good excuse to do just that. It's silly -- I should probably just go home and do something mindless like watch TV -- but I need to do something silly before I have another vision.

No,  _ hallucination _ . That's all it was. And all the parts that seemed so  _ real _ were just my imagination filling in the gaps in the legends. Nothing more _. _

"Link, I'm not thinking about this anymore," I mumble into my helmet.

It doesn't take long to reach the edge of town and the Parapa Highway, especially on the turnpike. From here, it's nothing but miles of nearly empty highway between me and the Desert Tunnel. I speed up purely because I can. There's no traffic to dodge or toll booths to navigate, and it's been a long time since I got the chance to just let Epona run. That's a shame, really. All of the time and effort Mido put into making Epona faster and more reliable than the decent-but-not-noteworthy little tourer she was when I bought her, and all I ever  _ do _ with all that speed and maneuverability is ride around Northcastle, running errands and going back and forth to work. 

At least Mido got an incredible senior project out of it.

The highway is practically empty tonight. I haven't seen a single vehicle for miles now. That means there's no harm in opening up the throttle a little bit, is there? My thoughts are still keeping pace; I need to go faster.

It doesn't take long to reach the Desert Tunnel. The lights lining the walls seem bright after driving alone on a dark highway. The Tunnel is completely empty, but of course it is. It's empty for the same reason as the road itself -- who travels to or from the little resort villages and state monuments in the Parapa area at night?

Light gleams off something behind me, something moving. Okay then, I'm not the only one in the Tunnel. I hope it's not a highway guardsman; just in case, I slow down to the speed limit. No, it's not a car. It's a motorcycle, a dark motorcycle with all its lights off. The Tunnel itself is well-lit, but the highway itself  _ isn't _ , so who in their right mind would drive this late with no headlights?

The motorcycle easily catches up to me and starts to go around me, only to pull up beside me and match my speed.

He's pacing me. Why is he pacing me? He caught up to me, so he was  _ clearly  _ speeding a moment ago. Why did he slow down? I only slowed down because I thought his motorcycle was a guardsman's car from a distance...

Light gleams off the rider's helmet as he glances over at me.

I glance back. He's dressed entirely in black, except for the deep red stripe running down the sleeve of his jacket. And now that I can actually get a decent look at it, his motorcycle looks a lot like Epona. Weird. Epona's base model is really hard to find nowadays; I've seen a lot of bikes over the last eight or so years, and I've seen Epona's base all of  _ twice _ .

He stares at me. I can't see his face, nor he mine, but even with the distance and the lights, I can still feel his gaze locked onto me. Who is he, why does he just so happen to have such a similar bike, and why in Farore's name is he  _ pacing  _ me?

I slow down; he slows down. I speed up; he speeds up. This is starting to get creepy. I cringe inwardly as we reach the end of the tunnel. It's going to be a lot harder keeping track of him now.

Wait, I have the perfect solution. Mido enhanced Epona in practically every way. I can just outrun this guy.

Or at least, I try to outrun him. I keep accelerating, but he accelerates with me, still trying to match my speed. Is he  _ trying  _ to ruin his engine? He has to be redlining that thing just to keep up with me! 

Then, finally, he starts falling behind. At first, it's not by much, just enough to let me pull ahead of him, but then he starts losing speed fast. As I pull away from him, he hits his lights and flashes them several times.

I ease to a halt on the side of the road and turn so I can look back at where I last saw him. He managed to reach one of the overlooks; I can see him underneath one of the dim streetlights, his hazard lights blinking. Is he all right? I'm not sure why he stopped. Is it because he wanted to stop, or is he having engine trouble?

I watch him for a few minutes. He doesn't do much. He walks around his bike, kneels beside it at a couple of points, and then starts digging through a saddlebag.

I sigh. I want to say it serves him right. There should be an emergency phone at the tunnel, so he can walk back to it and call for a ride. We left the tunnel moving fast, so we're not exactly next to it. It seems mean to make him walk all the way back. But it serves him right for insisting on pacing me.  _ But _ that's a long walk, especially if he's pushing his bike...

He's back on his bike by the time I reach him, sitting leisurely in the saddle with his arms loosely crossed and his visor up. I pull up beside him and flip up my visor. I leave Epona running, just in case.

"Do you need a telephone?"

"I'm good."

"Are you sure? Weren't you pushing your bike too hard?"

"Nah. This thing can fly when I want it to. I just felt like stopping, that's all."

Maybe his bike has been upgraded as well? That's certainly possible. It would explain how he could keep pace with me, but it doesn't explain why. "Then why did you turn on your blinkers?"

"I wanted to make sure you could see me." He chuckles. "I knew you'd stop."

"How could you know I'd stop? I don't even know who you are." Did I just say that out loud?

He shrugs. "Like I said, I knew you'd stop."

I narrow my eyes. "Really? Can I ask how you knew that?" Should I leave? All I need to do is throw Epona in gear and go, but I'm curious. Farore help me, I'm more curious than concerned. I unzip my jacket, partly to let some air in and partly to put my knife in easier reach.

"The same way I know you're armed."

"What makes you think I'm the kind of person who carries around a weapon?" How does he know?

He reaches up and pats the right breast of his jacket. "Because I've got a knife right here."

He has a knife, too? How? I had to have my hidden sheath sewn in because I couldn't find any jackets that  _ had _ one. No, it's still perfectly reasonable. I had a sheath put in, so clearly he could have one put in, too. Knives are small and easily hidden, so they're perfect for this. It's why I have a  _ knife _ and not something larger; he probably came to a similar conclusion. As for placement, well, it's certainly possible he's left-handed, too.

Certainly possible, and certainly understandable. But it still doesn't answer my question. "So you have a knife. That doesn't explain why you think  _ I'm  _ riding around armed."

"It doesn't? Hm. I could've sworn it did." He shrugs. "Eh, whatever. I'm not planning on whipping out a blade, for what it's worth."

That would be a lot more reassuring if I knew whether or not I could trust him.

"Hey, I just said I'm not going to attack you. Mind turning that thing off so we can talk?"

He wants to talk? Is that why he wanted me to stop? Now that I think about it, it  _ does  _ make sense, in a way. We've got similar bikes, and we're both out riding at the same weird time. He isn't acting hostile, and besides, if he knows I'm armed, too, then he knows I can defend myself.

Or maybe I'm just trying to rationalize why I'm still here. I sigh to myself and turn off Epona. "So what do you want to talk about?"

He pulls off his helmet, shaking his shoulder-length black hair free. His skin is dark. His eyes are red and vivid in the streetlight, noticeable even from my bike. I don't think I know him, but I swear I've seen that face before...

He sees me staring and grins; his smile practically glows compared to the night around us. "You okay over there?"

"Do I know you?"

"You just might." He climbs off his bike, unzips his jacket, and stretches. "So. What brings you out to the desert this time of night?"

I know I've seen him. On campus, maybe? "I could ask you the same thing."

"Ah, but I asked first."

I slide my helmet off and rest it on my tank bag. No real point leaving it on now; I know what he looks like, and he seems to know me, even if it's just in passing. All my helmet is doing right now is making me sweaty.

"I just felt like a good ride," I say. That's a good mix of being truthful and leaving out important details.

"Yeah, I know that feeling. I'm on my way to Parapa Temple to check on some stuff."

"Parapa Temple?" Okay, that is  _ not  _ a name I hear people using outside of old texts.

"Huh? Oh, damn, sorry. I've got a really bad habit of calling places by their old names. I meant Mount Parapa."

I shake my head. "It's all right; I knew what you meant. I'm just not used to hearing people call it that. Everyone considers it a mountain."

"Yeah, I know. I keep calling it a temple, and people keep looking at me like I'm an idiot." He grins. "Good to know I'm not the only one who knows my history."

"It's less history and more legend, really." Ganon's Slayer turned six temples overrun with monsters into mountains to seal away the evil within. It's one of  _ many _ seemingly-impossible tasks he's said to have performed. "You don't really seem like someone who'd be interested in old stories."

"Eh, I don't have much faith in old stories. They always exaggerate the boring parts and downplay all the fun." He walks over to stand next to Epona's front tire.

The exaggeration part I can agree with; even stories based in fact are ultimately stories, and most people want their stories to be entertaining. "What do you mean, 'downplay all the fun'?"

"Well, see, the stories love talking about how the hero could do all of these incredible things -- shatter boulders with his bare hands, make solid walls out of sand, see things no one else can see, shrink himself to fit through a keyhole, call down lightning or fire, set off an earthquake by stabbing the ground -- but they never say  _ how _ he managed to pull off any of them."

Those aren't all the same hero. He's referencing Ganon's Slayer and several older legends at the same time. "He's the Chosen Hero, right? I've always assumed he used magic."

"Hah! He wasn't  _ that  _ good with magic."

Why does he say that like he's talking about a friend? "What?"

"Well, it's usually the princess who's good with magic, right? And you can't hear about the hero without hearing about his sword, so he has to be more of a warrior than a mage."

"You've really thought this out, haven't you?" How much time has he devoted to this? He really doesn't look like someone who'd put this much effort into it... Then again, I probably don't, either.

He must be a student. I bet that's why he looks familiar. I probably pass him in the historical studies building all the time, though shouldn't I remember him better? I don't know.

"Eh, what can I say? It's a topic that's near and dear to my heart."

That's an odd way to phrase it, but I can understand the sentiment. "I can tell. There aren't many people with a personal interest in history or the hero's legends. Most people don't even realize there's more than one hero in the legends."

He laughs. "Yeah. Y'know, that's why I wanted to talk to you. We can swap stories. What do you think?"

"I don't know if I've got any interesting stories."

"You can tell me about what you do at work. I'm interested."

I shake my head. "There's not much to tell. Lately I've been doing a lot of translating."

"Really? And here I thought you had an exciting job." He grins. "I would've thought you spent your time out searching for whatever the heroes left behind."

I sigh and look down at my helmet. "I want to, but I don't know where anything is. And even if I  _ did _ , I can't risk wandering around dangerous, crumbling ruins in the middle of nowhere by myself." And who am I supposed to take with me? I really don't think I can convince anyone else that it's worth the risk.

"I know where to look. I can show you things that would make the Royal Historian jealous, and I can watch your back so you don't get hurt exploring them."

"What kind of things?"

"The old, decaying dungeon where Ganon fell. A lonely island with a palace hidden within its stones. The Great Palace that once housed the Triforce of Courage." He grins at me. "Maybe I've even seen the hero's sword."

Then that means it  _ does  _ still exist! But only if he's telling the truth. Anyone can  _ say _ they've seen it, but that doesn't mean anything. As for the others... Having concrete  _ places _ behind the legends would certainly help me connect the tales to history, but... just like with the Hero's Blade,  _ anyone  _ can claim that these places exist out there somewhere...

None of it is proof. I want to believe him, but... I just can't. "Those are some bold claims you're making. If you know where the Great Palace and the Hero's Blade are, why not tell someone? Any one of those would be the find of a lifetime, so why would you sit on that?"

"Why indeed?" He gives me an odd look, as if he expects me to know his answer. "Maybe I'd rather keep it my personal secret."

"Then why tell me?"

"Isn't it obvious? I want to let you in on the secret."

I cross my arms. "This has to be some kind of a trick. The thought that we would just randomly meet up like this, and you just  _ happen  _ to be claiming to find not one but  _ several _ of the things that prove the legends real,  _ and  _ you're willing to tell me about them, and..." Not just little things, either, no. Actual physical places and the very sword that slew Ganon. Does he realize what that would  _ mean _ ? I'd have proof that the legends were based on real events and that there really  _ was  _ a hero who wielded a sacred blade.

"There's no way this is a coincidence."

He shrugs. "Maybe it's destiny."

"Do you really think I'm going to fall for something like that?" I sigh. "I don't appreciate being tricked, and I  _ really  _ don't appreciate that you think I'm stupid enough to fall for that!" He probably thinks this is funny, doesn't he? Is he one of Ralph's friends? This whole thing seems a little too cruel to be Ralph's idea, but I can't think of anyone else I know who would pull something like this.

"This isn't a trick. I mean it. I've seen all of those things. I can show them to you."

I groan and pull my helmet back on. "I've heard enough. Tell Ralph that if he ever does this again, I'm going to stop holding Vael back." I mean that, too. Ralph can just take whatever tongue-lashing Vael wants to give him. Besides, it's not like Vael's going to hurt anything but his ego, and if  _ this _ is Ralph's idea of a joke, then he deserves to be taken down a peg or two.

"Whoa, hang on." He holds his hands up. "I'm not here because someone put me up to this. What if I have proof, Link? Would you still leave?"

That changes things. If he actually does have  _ proof _ of what he's claiming, then... No, I shouldn't get ahead of myself. This is just a prank. "Do you have proof?"

"Well, I don't have the Great Palace in my back pocket or anything, but..." He pulls something out of one of his saddlebags and holds it out to me. "Here. This is a start."

It's a bracelet, a bright red-orange cuff with a white inset. I reach out and take it, and then I almost drop it. It's magical,  _ really _ magical -- I can feel it humming through my gloves! "Wh-what is this?"

"It used to belong to a hero."

I want to believe that. I really do. I shouldn't be able to feel the magic at all with my riding gloves on; why does a bracelet have this much magic on it? But I also need to keep my wits about me. "I can't just take that claim on face value."

"I'm not asking you to. Take it with you. Give it a good, long look. Figure out what it does. Then you'll see what I mean."

He wants me to take it with me? "You're just  _ giving  _ me this?"

"I'm letting you borrow it."

"If this is what you say it is, then..."

"We'll worry about that later. Give it back to me next time we run into each other, and until then, you can examine it to your heart's content."

This is  _ absurd _ . He claims this belonged to one of Hyrule's heroes, but he's treating it like I'm borrowing his spare jacket or something. Is this really happening? "Next time we run into each other? When will that be?"

He shrugs. "Eh, I figure it won't be that long. I mean, I see you around here and there, even if you don't notice me."

He knows I've got some connection to the university. He can easily see my little golden University of Hyrule parking sticker from where he's standing. Come to think of it... I glance over at his windscreen; yes, he has a matching sticker. Yes, I'm right. That must be where I've seen him before. "You're a student, right?"

"I take a couple of classes, yeah. Like I  _ just _ _ said _ , I see you around."

"Okay. Are you sure you're all right with this? What if I damage it?"

"If I didn't want you touching it, I wouldn't have handed it to you, would I? I know I can trust you with it."

"How? I don't even know your name!"

He grins again. "My friends all call me Dark. It'll work for now. Besides, if I don't tell you my real name, that gives you another reason to meet me again."

As if giving him back what he's lending me isn't reason enough? I'm really confused. This still doesn't make sense. Whether this is what he claims or not, where did he find something like this? "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I want to. Do I need another reason?"

"I just..." This doesn't make sense.

"Yeah, I know. It's a pretty big thing to just spring on you like this." He shrugs and zips up his jacket. "It's the only thing I've got on me."

"You mean you have  _ more _ ?"

"I have all the proof you could ever want that the hero really existed, as long as you're willing to accept it." He doesn't sound like he's bragging; he's just stating a fact.

Is this a trick? Or does he really mean that? If he's telling the truth about the places he's been, then what other artifacts does he have?

No, I'm getting ahead of myself. "Let me examine this first."

"That's fine. I'll see if I can find something else for when you're done with the bracelet."

"I'm not promising anything."

"The only thing you need to promise me, Link, is that you'll examine that bracelet. If it doesn't interest you, then I won't bother you any more. If it  _ does _ interest you, well... Like I said, I've got plenty more where that came from." He climbs back onto his bike. "I should get going. I still need to get to Parapa Temple, and you probably want to get home."

He's leaving, just like that? I guess that really is all he can do. I can't believe anything he says without proof, and I can't accept the supposed proof I'm holding until I know more about it. I don't know his name; I don't know how he knows me; I don't know  _ anything  _ about him except what he claims. That should bother me more, shouldn't it?

"Wait! When are we going to meet up? You can't just be expecting us to run into each other somewhere."

"Actually, I was, but if you'd rather set the date, then..." He drums his fingers against the handlebars. "Hmm. Let me think... It'd probably be easier for you if we met near campus. We could meet up for a meal and some conversation." Why does he say that like we're going on a date? "So, what's a good time for you?"

I shake my head. "Shouldn't I ask you that? As long as I don't have any meetings, I can take a break whenever I want. You've got classes, right? When do you have time?"

He looks at me and laughs. "All right, if you're going to leave it up to me... How about Midweek at 1 pm? That time work for you?"

Midweek... that gives me four days to examine the bracelet; that should be enough time to figure out  _ something _ about it. And I don't have any meetings until the end of the week. "I can do that."

"Good. So, how about we meet at the King's Town Tavern?"

That's close enough to campus that I could walk; that makes it easier. "That's fine."

"All right, then." He grins. "It's a date."

"This isn't a date. I'm only meeting you because of this." I hold up the bracelet.

He grins broader. "You never know. You might end up enjoying spending time with me. See you in a few days, Link." He pulls on his helmet, starts his bike, and rides off towards Mount Parapa.

I watch his lights disappear into the distance. Was he flirting with me? Is  _ that  _ what all of this is about? But he seems to know a lot about the legends, too, so... I look down at the bracelet. This will all make so much more sense once I figure out what magic this bracelet holds and how old it is. I can't prove it belonged to anyone in particular, but it's clearly powerful. I just need to determine that it's old enough and that it might be connected... just enough to show that Dark could be telling the truth.

And then I'll go from there. If he  _ is  _ telling me the truth, then there are a lot of questions he'll need to answer. If he's lying, then... I slide the bracelet into my tank bag. If he's lying, I'll give him back his bracelet and tell him to stop bothering me.

I slap my visor into place and start Epona. I don't know what to think about this. This seems too convenient, too coincidental, too  _ suspicious _ . This happened for a reason; I'm sure of it. I just need to figure out what that reason  _ is _ .

I pull out onto the highway and head towards Northcastle. First thing is to get back to my apartment and give the bracelet a good once-over under better lighting. Vael can tell me how old the magic on it is and hopefully give me some idea of what it does. Then I can compare it to the legends, and... well, I'll see what happens from there.

Even though I don't see any lights behind me, I keep checking my mirrors. He claims he's heading out to Parapa, but I wouldn't exactly be surprised if I saw Dark following me. Why is he doing this?

No, I need to stop focusing on the questions I can't answer. All that's going to do is frustrate me. I'm going to try not to dwell on this. I'm just going to go home, grab something to eat, and get some sleep. The last thing I need is to stress myself out over this when I have a plan.

Everything's under control.

I get all the way to the edge of Northcastle before it hits me: How does Dark know my name?

Did I tell him my name? I don't remember mentioning it, but... No, I'm sure I didn't tell him. But he called me by name, more than once, even. How does he know?

I spend the rest of the ride home trying and failing to answer that.

The apartment is dark and empty when I get there. Oh,  _ right _ ; Mikau is out playing a show, so he probably won't be back until tomorrow. I turn on the light and lock the door behind me, and then I kick off my boots and toss my jacket over a chair.

So much about Dark and our meeting just doesn't make sense. Just who is he, and how does he know me? And why does he seem familiar?

I groan. I'm not getting anywhere with this. Instead, I wander into the kitchen. There's still pizza. Good, I don't feel like cooking after all of that. I grab a couple of slices and take them into my room. I know I should eat in the kitchen, but I'd rather just eat at my desk so I can examine the bracelet at the same time.

The bracelet isn't a watch; there's no timepiece. It's carved out of a single piece of some kind of red stone streaked with shades of orange. I think it's agate. Here and there, thin bands of gold or rose gold are wrapped around it, and inset in the center is a large, oval-shaped white stone. It's opal; I know that sheen anywhere.

It's definitely unusual. I've only seen bracelets carved out of a single piece of stone a few times before, and those have all been considerably thinner and free of any other ornamentation. It doesn't seem damaged at all, but if this belonged to a hero, then it has to be several hundred years old. Shouldn't it have at least a few scratches?

And why is there so much magic on it? I don't think I've ever heard of a piece of jewelry this heavily enchanted. Maybe some of the magic protects it from damage? I know that can be done, but what  _ else  _ can it do? Who enchants a bracelet?

I can't answer these questions until I know more about the magic. There's no way I'm calling Vael this time of night, but maybe he can look it over for me this weekend. I don't think I want to show this to anyone else until I have a better idea what is happening, but I can trust Vael.

I should sketch this, just for my own records. It might just be habit, but... This feels important. I can't explain why, but at this point, I'm just going to accept that and not question it. Not tonight, at least.

My good color pencils are still here, aren't they? Yes, here they are. Good. Hopefully sketching this can help clear my head a little.

I work on my sketch until my eyes get heavy and my vision starts blurring. Then I rub my eyes and lean back in my chair with a yawn. It feels late. A check of my watch confirms that -- it's almost three. I shouldn't still be awake.

I stretch and yawn again. There's not much else I can do with tired eyes, so I'm done for the night. I change out of my work clothes, turn off the light, and flop into bed. Sleep sounds good, and if I'm lucky, things will start making sense tomorrow.

\---

"Oh, joy, the Lizalfos are still here. Why haven't we just burned these damned walls yet?"

He insists on calling them that on purpose; I know he does. I don't know if he's trying to annoy me or if he just prefers it. "The walls were here long before the Geru claimed them. I don't know who built the walls or why, and since the Geru don't attack anyone else..."

"I don't care if they attack anyone else, Link. They attack  _ us _ , and I'm sick of dealing with their shit. Seriously, just let me raze the damned walls and be done with it."

"How many of them are back there, Dark? They might be waiting for us to breach the walls so they can rush us." I sigh. "And the smoke will make it a lot harder for me to see where they are."

"Lizalfos are too stupid to set a trap."

"And yet they're smart enough to set an ambush." Granted, it's hard to call it an ambush at this point. We know exactly where they are, and we know exactly how they're going to attack: as soon as we get close enough, they'll start throwing rocks over the wall at us. They do this every time we pass through here. I don't know why they lurk here waiting for us to pass. I know they want to kill me, but I don't understand why they keep waiting here. It just doesn't seem like the best plan, especially since I'm still alive.

"Let's see how  _ they _ like dodging rocks." He lifts the biggest rock he can find over his head and starts walking towards the wall. It's more of a boulder, really.

"Must you do that?"

Apparently he must. He keeps walking towards the wall. The Geru watch him; a couple of them throw rocks at him, but the rocks bounce off of the boulder he's carrying.

He yells and hurls the boulder. It crashes through the top of the wall, punching a hole in the top edge before slamming into at least three Geru and knocking them from their perches. The other Geru just stare at where their allies fell.

Since they're all distracted, I take the chance to run past the wall. A couple of the Geru at the far end throw rocks at me, but neither rock gets close enough to hit me. Dark isn't as lucky; he turns to follow me, but one of the Geru shrieks and the others all start raining rocks down at him.

"Dark!"

\---

The sound of ringing wakes me up. I blink up at the ceiling. What was that? Just a dream? It seemed... familiar.

I sit up and look around at my room. I know where I am, but the dream was so vivid that my bedroom seems strange and unfamiliar. That was just a dream. Sometimes dreams feel real, don't they?

Then why doesn't it feel like a dream? It feels more like remembering something I haven't thought about in a long time. That shouldn't be possible. How can something I've never done feel like an old memory?

I still hear ringing. I think it's the telephone, but I really don't feel like getting up and going all the way out front to answer it. Instead, I fall back onto my pillow. Just leave a message, whoever you are, and I'll call you back later. I need a chance to collect my thoughts and wake up.

The dream and last night are blurring together in my head. How much of what I remember actually happened? Maybe it's all a figment of my imagination? After all, it won't be my first hallucination.

I climb out of bed and stretch. My watch says it's almost noon; I didn't sleep as late as I thought I would've. Then again, I think the telephone woke me up, so if not for it, I'd still be asleep.

I pull on some jeans and the first shirt I find. As I do, I notice a red loop on my desk. It's the bracelet. The magic on it hums against my hand before I even pick it up, and once I do, it practically vibrates against my palm.

It wasn't a dream. It really happened. I really met Dark, and he really gave me this bracelet to examine, and he says he knows where the Great Palace and the Hero's Blade are. What else does he know?

Who is this Dark, and what does he want from me?


	3. Chapter 2

"To ensure that I've heard you correctly: You took another of your night rides on a certain lonely desert highway, and for once, you encountered someone else doing the same thing. You pulled onto the side of the road so you could talk --"

I slump in my seat. "I thought he was having engine trouble!"

"And yet once you knew he wasn't, you stayed." Vael slides his glasses up and continues. "You pulled over to  _ talk _ , and it just so happened that this man you encountered by pure chance  _ just happened _ to be familiar with the legends of the hero in a way that the vast majority of people aren't  _ and _ he just so happened to have a piece of powerfully enchanted jewelry in his pocket that he claimed belonged to the hero that he was  _ perfectly willing _ to let you take with you as proof of his claims?"

He crosses his arms loosely. "Did this honestly not strike you as suspicious?"

"I'm not stupid, Vael! I know it doesn't make any sense! And the bracelet was in his saddlebag, not his pocket."

"The details don't particularly matter, Link!" Vael closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. "What if he had gone for a weapon instead of a bracelet?"

"I had my knife with me!" Does he really think I wasn't worried about that?!

He sighs. "How do we know this isn't stolen? I find it hard to believe that someone who owns something this powerful would give it to anyone for any reason."

"He didn't tell me where he got it or how long he's had it, Vael, but he made it sound like it's his. So, can you tell how old it is or what it does?"

"Of course, but it will take time to determine."

I nod. That's understandable. "How much time do you need?"

"How much detail do you need?"

"Mostly, I need to know how old it is. Specifically, does it match his story? Is this bracelet old enough to potentially be from the time of Ganon's Slayer? Beyond that... I'd like to know if it's safe to wear or not. I can experiment with it on my own once I know it won't hurt me. I'm sorry; I know this is really sudden."

Vael picks up the bracelet and toys with it for a moment before looking up at me. "You don't want to get the Project involved."

He isn't asking me; he's telling me. I guess that means I don't have to ask him to keep this quiet. "I'd rather not. Right now, I don't even know if this is anything more than a bad joke."

He gives me a small smile. "Good to know we agree on that. I have one more question for you: When you do meet with your mysterious stranger, where are you going to meet him? Somewhere safer than the side of a lonely desert road at night, I would hope."

"I'm not an idiot, Vael!" I can feel my face heating up. "I know this whole situation is really weird, but I just... I don't even know how to explain it."

"You believe him."

"I don't know why, but... Yes, I do. Everything says I shouldn't, but I  _ do _ ." I know none of this makes sense. I really don't need him to rub it in.

Vael stares at me, brow slightly furrowed; his stare is intense. "So this entire situation is happening because of your intuition."

"That's one way to put it. For what it's worth, I'm going to meet him on Midweek at the King's Tomb Tavern," I mumble.

"That's good to know. If all you need is a rough estimate, then I should be able to determine that. I'm reasonably certain this isn't cursed, but I'll see what I can learn. I'll need to take this with me, of course, but I can have it back to you for your meeting. That should be plenty of time to answer your questions... as long as you're  _ certain _ you don't need a precise age."

"It might be good to know in the future, but all I really need to know right now is whether or not he's telling me the truth. It gives me a place to start next time I talk to him." If Dark is telling the truth, I have so many questions to ask him. _So_ many questions.

Vael nods at me. "Very well, then. I'll do what I can."

"Thanks, Vael. I really appreciate this."

\---

For the most part, I manage to put the bracelet and the man who gave it to me out of mind and focus on my work. It helps that I have plenty to do before the meeting.

It only does so much, though, and when I get to my office on Midweek morning and find a small box sitting on my desk, I know I'm not getting any work done until this afternoon at the earliest.

The bracelet is inside the box, as is a note in Vael's handwriting. I set my gear down and make myself comfortable in my chair before reaching for the note.

Then I spend a while toying with the note before I actually read it. I know I need to know what it says, but now that I have it right here in front of me, I'm worried about what the answer is.

According to Vael, the bracelet is old, older than even the oldest estimates for when Ganon's Slayer lived. Vael also writes that he knows the bracelet isn't cursed and that the enchantment should be beneficial, but he didn't have the time to determine exactly what it was.

Then the bracelet is easily old enough to belong to a hero. But that doesn't mean that it  _ did,  _ only that it  _ could _ . That's not the same thing. I pick it up and stare down at it. I still don't know what it does. 'Should be beneficial' covers a lot of ground.

I should have considered this the other night. Half a week isn't really enough for what I need to do with this. Or is this deliberate? Does Dark not want me to look at this too closely? No, what am I thinking? That doesn't make sense. If he didn't want me to examine the bracelet, he wouldn't have given it to me in the first place.

Right?

I still have some time before we're supposed to meet. I could experiment with it a bit and try to figure out just what it does. Maybe. Should I put it on? Vael says it's not cursed, and it'll be infinitely easier to work out what it does with it on, but... now I don't know. If this  _ did  _ belong to a hero, then what right does someone like me have to wear it?

I reach up with my free hand and massage the side of my head. All I'm doing is stressing myself out unnecessarily, and it's giving me a headache. Look at me -- I'm so worried about being disrespectful to a man who has been dead for centuries to the point where I'm denying myself data that I  _ need _ .

This isn't getting my anywhere. The hero isn't going to come back from whatever afterlife he's in to smite me for my impudence or curse my family for untold generations for disturbing his slumber or unleash some kind of foul creature to devour me whole or... well,  _ anything  _ that happens in a late-night monster movie.

Maybe Vael's right. Maybe I  _ do _ watch too many of those things.

I take a deep breath and slide on the bracelet. Then I cringe, fully expecting  _ something _ to happen to me.

Nothing does. No monster materializes in the middle of the room. No unholy, undying, shrieking voices swear vengeance. My arms tingle with magic, but other than that, I don't note anything different. The tingling  _ is  _ kind of weird, especially since both of my arms are tingling even though only the right one has the bracelet.

My hands and forearms don't look different. They don't feel different, either. I poke my arm with the other hand, but it feels like it always does. I touch whatever random things are in easy reach of my desk -- the desk itself, the window, the bookcase, my helmet, a stack of paper, a stone paperweight, a metal shelf -- but nothing unusual happens at any point.

_Weird,_ yes, but what does it _do_?

I lean on my desk with my arms and nearly fall on my face when my desk moves. Did that...? Yes, that just happened; my desk is now closer to the door than it was before. How did I move it? I distinctly remember that it took  _ three  _ of us to move this thing when I first set up this office. I can only make this thing slide across the floor with a lot of effort, and even then, it barely moves.

I look down at my hands and the bracelet around my wrist. Then I walk around the side, put my hands on the desk and give it a gentle push. This shouldn't be enough to move it, but it starts moving. I can hear the desk's legs scraping against the floor and watch it slide back towards its usual position, but I shouldn't be pushing it hard enough to even nudge it!

Is something making me stronger? I look around my office, looking for something else I can test. Oh, wait, I still have that box of books I never finished unpacking. I can pick it up and see how heavy it feels; I already know how heavy it is. The box is  _ considerably  _ lighter than it should be when I lift it, light enough that I nearly throw it instead of simply raising it off the floor.

The bracelet enhances my strength! This is incredible! I set the box back on the floor and stare down at my hands again. This is...

My head reels, recalling all the tales of the hero hurling massive stones farther than a man can leap and shattering boulders with a single strike -- even though the hero is always said to be unassuming to the point where he can apparently pass through a city and help the people in it without anyone realizing he's their hero and not just someone doing a good deed or ten. How can someone be simultaneously so normal and so  _ not _ ?

I look down at the red and orange band around my wrist and grin.  _ This  _ could be why. At first glance, it's just a bracelet -- and that assumes that he would wear it around everywhere. It's possible that he used it when he needed it and let it stay hidden in his pack the rest of the time. He wouldn't have to worry about accidentally harming someone, but he'd have his source of strength in easy reach when he needed it.

This still doesn't mean that it  _ is _ the hero's bracelet, but it's easily old enough to be, and the enchantment is one that makes perfect sense in context. It very easily  _ could be his _ .

This is  _ awesome _ . 

The legends are history. I've been convinced of that for most of my life. But now, more than ever before, I know that the legends really happened. Hyrule's hero isn't just a figure of legend.

He's  _ real _ .

No, no, no. I'm getting ahead of myself. This doesn't prove anything about the legends except that they could contain a grain of truth, which doesn't really help at all. I have a magical bracelet that enhances strength, and I have Dark's claim that this belonged to a hero. A claim doesn't mean anything.

So then why do I  _ believe  _ him?

I fall into my chair and take the bracelet off. I shouldn't believe him, but... I check my watch. It's almost time to meet Dark. I might as well get going; heading over there is better than sitting here thinking in circles again. I slide the bracelet into my bag, sling my bag over my shoulder, and head downstairs.

It's almost time to meet Dark; I should probably get going. I pull the bracelet off and put it in my bag, sling my bag over my shoulder, and head out.

I manage to keep my composure just long enough to get out of the historical studies complex, but once I'm out of the building and thus out of sight of all my coworkers, I turn my bag so that it hangs behind me and start running. Besides, I'm on campus. There's  _ always  _ someone running somewhere here.

I know I should probably slow down and walk, but I'm just so  _ excited _ . Dark says he has more. How much more? What  _ kind  _ of more? I have so many questions, but the thought that keeps screaming in my head isn't one of them. The hero is real, and soon, I might just be able to  _ prove _ it.

I'm so distracted by how awesome this situation is that I run past the tavern and don't notice it until I'm most of a block beyond it. Whoops.

The walk back to the tavern gives me a chance to look over the vehicles parked along the street. I don't see Dark's bike. Of course, if he's a student, he's probably going to walk over from campus just as I did. He isn't outside. How am I going to find him? I don't know if I remember enough about what he looks like to recognize him when I see him, especially since I doubt he's wearing his jacket in this weather.

Damn. I should have thought of this sooner. It's too late now. Worst case scenario, he found me once, so he can find me again, right?

I head inside and look around. I don't see anyone sitting by himself, so I'm going to assume that means he isn't here. Well, if he's not here, then I'll just make myself comfortable. I pick a booth away from everyone else and sit down, setting my bag next to me on the seat.

And now I wait.

A waitress comes by, so I order some soda. Even after having to backtrack, I'm here on time, so... where is Dark? Running late, apparently, I answer myself. It isn't helping that I'm so excited that I'm practically bouncing in my seat. I start tapping one foot against the carpet to hopefully burn off some of this nervous energy. Come on, where is he?

After what my watch says is fifteen minutes and my head says is  _ much  _ longer, a bag lands on the tabletop as someone sighs heavily and slides into the booth across from me. "Sorry 'bout that. I thought I'd get out of there sooner."

"It's all right," I reply.

Dark skin, black hair that falls onto his shoulders... Those I remember from the other night. He's not wearing his jacket now, just a red tank top. Dark is... actually pretty good-looking. He's a lot more muscular than I thought he was; he's definitely stronger than I am. A thin string choker holds a small silver Triforce against his neck, pointing downwards. I've never seen a guy wearing a choker before, but it looks like it belongs on him, upside-down Triforce and all.

He doesn't look any more familiar now, but I still have that feeling I've seen him before. Something about the choker seems familiar, too. No, I know I see upside-down Triforces here and there in old murals. I don't know  _ why _ they're upside-down, but... If he's familiar with history, then maybe that's why he wears it like that. Or maybe he just felt like it.

Or maybe he tied it on upside-down by mistake. Goddesses, why am I fixating on a choker?

He grins at me. "Looking for something?"

"I'm trying to convince myself that this is really happening." That's technically true.

"Is it really so hard to believe?"

"Do you honestly want me to answer that?"

He laughs. The waitress comes by again; Dark orders an espresso and a glass of water, and we both order lunch. After she leaves, he leans forward. "Y'know, I'm the kind of guy who asks questions because I want to know the answer."

I sigh and take a drink. "Yes, this  _ is  _ hard to believe."

"Which part? Are you still hung up on how we met, or are you thinking about something else?"

"The entire thing. Do you follow me around?"

"I don't follow you. Like I told you the other night, I had business out around Parapa Temple. I wasn't expecting to run into you, but when I did, I figured I might as well take advantage of the chance to talk somewhere private."

"So you convinced me to stop by faking engine trouble."

"Hey, I had to figure out  _ something _ . It was either that or follow you, but I'm pretty sure that would've just creeped you out."

He's right about that. I was leery enough as it was.

"Sure, it wasn't the best plan, but I was kind of winging it. I saw you, and I wanted to talk, so... we talked. The bracelet was me winging it, too. Speaking of which, did you get the chance to look it over?"

I glance at my bag. "Yes, I did."

"And do you believe me now?"

I look back at him. His eyes are red. Red and piercing and brighter and more vivid than they should be in this light. I know those eyes, but why and from where? "I'm not sure I  _ entirely  _ believe you, but..."

He looks around. "Do you believe that it belonged to him?"

Should I admit it? "I want to."

"Oh?"

"It's old enough. It would explain some of the tales. There's nothing that proves it belonged to any of the heroes, but I want to believe it did." I force myself to laugh and give Dark a weak smile. "I should be more skeptical of this entire situation, but... I can't. I probably shouldn't even be telling you this."

"Eh, it's fine. It's a weird situation. If it helps, I'm sure it'll all make sense eventually. Until then, what do you want to do?"

"Don't you want your bracelet back?"

"Nah, you can hang onto it for me. Maybe you can find the proof you're looking for." He unzips his bag, pulls out something wrapped in cloth, and sets it on the table. "I said I'd bring something else for you to look at."

I reach over and unwrap it. It looks like a magnifying glass with a strange pink-purple lens. It's magical. The magic doesn't feel as strong as the magic on the bracelet, but it's still noticeable. "What is this? Do I have to figure this one out on my own, too?"

He leans back and crosses his arms, grinning. "You seem to have figured out the bracelet. But nah, I'll go ahead and tell you what this one does. This lets you see things that are invisible or veiled in illusion."

"Invisible things?" I hold the lens up and peer through it, but all I notice is everything's colors being distorted because I'm looking through colored glass. "I don't see anything."

Dark laughs. "For one, you're not doing it right; you have to use your magic to activate it." He reaches over and slides it out of my hand. "For another, there's nothing to see here. You have to go places with invisible things or illusions if you want to use it right."

So he's going to just dangle that in front of me and even give me basic instructions, but then he won't let me  _ use  _ it? He's planning something. 

"Let me guess," I say. "You know of a place with both of those."

" _ A _ place, hah! That's just it. Hyrule's  _ full _ of places cloaked in ancient illusions. You just have to know where to look and be willing to face a few wild beasts getting there. And if you  _ really  _ know where to look, you can find the invisible monsters. You'd better be able to see them, though, or they'll do some serious damage to you before you can get away from them. It's hard to evade what you can't see."

"There are invisible monsters? It's hard enough believing that there are monsters, period."

He wraps the lens in cloth and puts it back into his bag. "Tch, there's nothing to believe in. They're out there if you just know where to look. But you've really got to look, since they're just smart enough to avoid the places where people are. Have you ever heard of the Old King's Tomb Graveyard?"

"Yes, I have." It's kind of hard to  _ not _ know about it. The Old King's Tomb Graveyard is south of Mido. It's an old burial ground that still sees use occasionally and is home to the graves of several famous Hyruleans, including at least a half dozen former rulers and multiple knights. "What about it?"

The waitress brings our food. Dark watches her leave and then gives me a broad, dangerous grin. "Do you know what's behind all that fencing?"

Oh, we're not thinking of the same place. He's thinking about the part of the graveyard that  _ isn't  _ open to the public. The southern part, at least two-thirds of the graveyard's true area, is fenced off and closed to any and all visitors because the ground is highly unstable. 

"To the best of my knowledge, all that's behind the fencing is miles of crumbling ground and old, collapsing graves. Why?" Why is he asking me about the graveyard, anyway?

"Have you ever thought there might be more than that back there?"

"Not really, no. Should I?" I have, actually. I've never been serious about it, but there are lots of stories about people hopping the fence and exploring the former graveyard, finding everything from great and powerful ancient treasure to angry, vengeful ghosts to hidden passages to forgotten temples. Of course, all those stories are based on rumor and hearsay and third- or fourth-hand accounts, so it's not likely that any of them are actually  _ true _ .

He rolls his eyes. "You have such a boring job. Do you ever leave your office?"

What does that have to do with the graveyard? I give him a glare. "Most of what I've been doing lately is translation. I don't have to go anywhere to translate text."

"But that sounds so boring! Don't you ever get to go on an adventure?"

"I guess that depends. I doubt you'd consider any of it an adventure." I've spent plenty of time helping with the excavations at the old Kakariko Canyon Graveyards, but I doubt he cares about that.

"Well, then, how about we go on one? I've been behind the fences at the Old King's Tomb Graveyard. I know some of what's back there, and there are several things that I  _ know _ you'll be interested in. We can meet out there, and I'll show you around. You can even see how the Lens of Truth works."

"Isn't it trespassing to go into the fenced off part of the graveyard?"

"The guard tends to not like it, but... well, there are ways to get in if you know how."

"You want me to go with you to a closed-off graveyard so you can show me around. That doesn't sound weird to you?" That sounds dangerous, especially since I don't even know what's there. He might be lying just to lure me somewhere private. Except if he just wanted to hurt me, he had plenty of opportunity the other night, and he's telling the truth about the bracelet...

At the same time, I've wondered what's behind that fence for years. I've never gone because I didn't want to go alone, but he's offering to go with me... It's an ancient graveyard. Even without treasures or ancient temples or things that I need magic to see, there have to be all kinds of interesting things! Old inscriptions on the headstones, ancient statues, maybe even some faded murals... and there will be even more if there's still some mausoleums standing!

But if we get caught -- no, more like if  _ I _ get caught -- a member of the Royal History Project sneaking into a fenced-off graveyard? That won't look good at  _ all. _ Chambers would have a complete meltdown if he knew, and I don't know what the legal punishment is for that kind of thing.

_ But _ this won't be the first time I've sneaked my way into a place I wasn't supposed to be in, nor will this be my first time hopping a fence. And think about what I might find! I can take my sketchbook and charcoal and make a bunch of rubbings, even if they are just for my own reference...

"Just admit you want to go already. You're trying to sound all rational and cautious and uncertain, but the look on your face says you can't wait to get there. So let's go."

I look over at him. Am I that easy to read? Vael doesn't seem to have any trouble doing it, but Vael and I have known each other for over a year now. Dark can't know me that well. He just  _ can't _ . "You make it sound so easy."

"It is easy!" He glances around again before leaning in towards me. "All we have to do is head over there, hide the bikes, and hop the fence. Once we're there, no one can stop us."

"Unless they see us leaving." I want to go. Why do I keep insisting on arguing the point? It's risky, but if we're careful, then we won't get caught. Yes, the guards probably patrol the area, but they most likely just keep an eye out for vehicles or people in places where they shouldn't be. As long as we do our best to not draw attention to ourselves, they probably won't notice us.

"What are you so worried about? I've been there more than once. The guards aren't really hard to dodge. Are you that scared of getting caught?"

I tense. "I'm not scared! I just want to know what I'm getting myself into!" I turn my attention to my food. At least that makes sense.

He nudges my leg with his foot. "You're letting yourself get distracted from the real question, Link. Are we going to the graveyard or not?"

"I'll go." We might get caught or hurt or who knows what else, but I have to go. I want every bit of information Dark is willing to share, and if that means hopping a fence, then I'll hop the fence.

He grins broadly, flashing his teeth. Does he have  _ fangs _ , or is that just a trick of the light? "Good! Then it's time to talk specifics. When are we going? I can go tonight, but you probably want more warning than that."

"I have to be at work tomorrow." The graveyard is a couple of hours from here. Not a  _ horribly _ long trip, but that's still four hours just on the road at  _ least _ . Even with Dark showing me around, it's going to take  _ hours _ to explore. Should I take my camping gear? I'm not sure. It doesn't seem right to sleep where people are buried. "How long are we going to be there?"

"Tch, like I know? If I show you the place I'm thinking about, it'll take a while. Hours, at least. Maybe all night, maybe even longer than that. Depends on how long we take looking around."

"What's this place you want to show me?"

"I was going to wait until we were there, but eh, why not? One of the temples turned into a mountain is on an island in the bay, and I just so happen to know a way to get to it. There's a tunnel to the island hidden in the graveyard, and I know where the entrance is. I can at least show you where the tunnel is."

"So there  _ is _ a tunnel. I thought there had to be. Is the tunnel why that part of the graveyard is fenced off?" That can't be it, can it? There have to be plenty of other reasons why two thirds of the area is behind a fence.

"Nah, there are plenty of reasons for that. It's dangerous out there, but that's why you've got me. I can watch your back."

"Dangerous how?" He sounds sure of himself. Then again, he looks pretty muscular. I make a mental note to bring my bow and plenty of arrows. If I need a weapon, I prefer my bow to my knife; then I can try to keep my distance.

He doesn't answer me at first; he's too busy eating. "Wild animals, though they're pretty easy to scare off for the most part. Not going to lie, there  _ are  _ some monsters out there. The more dangerous ones are really only dangerous because they're either good at hiding or invisible. The hidden ones we can avoid by being careful where we go, and the invisible ones are what the Lens is for. When we get there, I'll show you exactly how it works so you don't get caught off-guard." He stops for a moment and stares off at nothing in particular. "Y'know, I should probably ask. I know you have your little knife, but... You  _ can _ defend yourself, right?"

"I'm good with a bow. Do arrows work on these things?"

"Yeah, arrows work on them as long as you can hit them; some of them move around a lot." He nods. "I'll watch your back as much as I can, but you're going to need to be able to fight on your own, too."

I can take care of myself. Or at least, I can try. "That sounds ominous."

He shrugs. "Ominous or realistic, take your pick. I don't exactly want to get you killed."

"I would hope you don't." That's reassuring, but... "What about the ground? Isn't it unstable?"

"Huh? Oh, right. Well... Yes and no. The place isn't going to swallow you up or anything, but... It's a graveyard, and it hasn't been properly cared for in a long time. There's a bunch of bushes and trees, the paths are all overgrown, most of the headstones are either tilted or fallen over completely, a bunch of the graves have collapsed inward... It's definitely a mess. You'll need a lantern. Don't worry; once we're over the fence, they'll never see the light, especially once we head deeper inside."

An old graveyard that's crumbling into dust... If that's what people see when they hop the fence, I can see why there are so many reports of ghosts beyond the fence. Most people tend to find that kind of thing eerie. "How long can we stay? Is it more dangerous at night? Do we dare sleep in a place like that?"

"It's a little dangerous at night just because it's dark, but at the same time, it's easier to sneak in at night because it's that much harder for the guards to see you. I don't think I'd want to sleep in the graveyard itself. It'd be too easy for something to sneak up on us. But I've slept in the tunnel more than once; it's pretty safe. Not sure if you're really comfortable staying in a place like that, but the option's there."

"I'd really rather not." Now that I think about it, I don't have to choose between driving back to Northcastle and sleeping in the graveyard. Mido Town is twice as close as Northcastle, so worst case, I can just stay at a motel there and drive home the next day. I just need to make sure I leave while I can still make the drive.

"Yeah, thought so." He looks off at something behind me. I glance behind me, but no, there's nothing there except the wall shelves full of mugs and bottles. "I guess we should go on a weekend, huh? Is that all right with you? No one's going to worry if you vanish for a weekend, are they?"

Vael will if I tell him about this. He's going to try to talk me out of this, and to be fair, he's being rational about this. He'll probably argue that I'm letting my intuition and sentimentality blind me again. No, what am I saying? That's exactly what he's going to say if I tell him.

Then I just won't tell him. I don't tell him everything, and besides... "You do realize that I'm probably older than you, right? I don't have to tell someone my every move."

He grins at me. "Should I start calling you 'old man', then?"

I glare at him. Really? "No, you shouldn't. I don't need a nickname."

He snickers.

I'm ignoring that; we were discussing something. "I can make time this weekend. Can you?"

"Weren't you listening? I'm ready to go whenever you want. If you want tonight, I can do tonight. If you want this weekend, I can do this weekend. Just name your time."

"This weekend." I don't want to wait any longer than I have to. I'm going to be going back and forth about what we might find there and whether or not this is a good idea until I get there.

"It's a date, then."

"Isn't that a morbid kind of date? Besides, it's not a date."

He just grins at me again. "I think it's the fun kind of date, personally."

"Then I think you're a very strange person."

"Says the guy who's going to that graveyard with me."

I don't have a counter for that.

\---

I get to the Old King's Tomb Graveyard around mid-afternoon. That parking lot has a few vehicles scattered around, but none of them belong to the guard. I ease through the lot until I find Dark's bike and park beside it.

It's peaceful out here. Quiet, too. I can see the highway in the distance, but I don't really hear the noise. The parking lot is ringed with flowering plants, and the main gate is flanked by tall stone statues of knights. Vines wrap around and through the metal fence, making it hard to see inside the grounds. I can just make out the faint but steady hum of magic as I walk through the open gate.

The graveyard is... well, it's a graveyard. I've spent so much time back in the Canyon Graveyards that  _ this  _ one looks odd. I'm used to toppled stones and crumbling statues buried beneath layers of sand and gravel, not rows of stones rising straight and proud from neatly trimmed grass and decorated with flowers. I'm so comfortable with a forgotten graveyard that a  _ normal _ one is unfamiliar; what does that say about me?

This isn't the time or the place to dwell on it. I need to find Dark. I don't see him anywhere, but he has to be here, right? His bike is in the parking lot. And I  _ know _ it's his; it looks just like mine, just in black and red instead of green and black. So where is he?

I can't see the whole grounds from the entrance, so I follow the road. I feel a little out of place here. No one I know is buried here, and I'm only here to sneak into the closed-off part... It shouldn't be possible to want to do something and dread it at the same time, yet somehow, I'm doing just that.

I shake my head and sigh. Dark has to be around here  _ somewhere _ .

Half an hour later, I'm beginning to wonder about that. I  _ still  _ don't see him anywhere. Is he hiding from me? Is this some kind of weird game? 

I find a bench and sit down. The case for my bow feels heavy against my back; I'm not used to wearing a weapon around a place like this, even if it  _ is  _ stored away and not in plain sight. Thankfully, there aren't many people in the graveyard, and no one has looked too closely at me.

I see a flash of light out of the corner of my eye. There's a pictobox sitting on top of a bush, lens pointed at the sky. What's it doing there? I walk over to it. It's a pretty fancy pictobox, resting on the bush almost like it belongs there. It doesn't look forgotten.

_ Click _ .

Is that...?

"Ooh, that one came out  _ nice _ ," Dark says.

"So there you are." I step around the bush and find him laying on his back on the ground, holding the pictobox in place on the bush. "What are you doing?"

"I  _ was _ taking pictos of the clouds, but then you leaned over, so I took a picto of you."

"How long have you been waiting for me to notice your pictobox? There have to be easier ways of taking my pictograph."

"Like I  _ just said _ , I wasn't waiting for you to notice me. I was taking pictos of clouds. Didn't even realize you were here." He sits up, sets the pictobox in his lap, and brushes the leaves and blades of grass from his hair. "I got here early, so I figured I'd wander around and take a few snapshots of random things. Guess I lost track of time." He grins at me. "But you're here now."

"Yes, I am." I adjust the bow case across my back. Why does it feel like it's getting heavier? "So how are we going to evade the guards? We can't just leave our bikes out in the parking lot."

He packs his pictobox away with practiced ease. "I know. There's a really old access road that used to run into the southern part of the graveyard before they fenced it off. It's not far from a shallow wash full of brush and trees. We can park in the wash. We should be good as long as we cover any tracks we leave between the road and the wash."

"Won't the guards think to check the wash, though?"

"See, that's the thing. The guards check the old road because every now and then some idiot parks near the fence. The wash isn't big enough to hide a car, and it'd be kind of hard to get a car in and out of it without either making it really obvious that someone's been through there or just wrecking the car. A motorcycle, now... We walk the bikes down, hide them in the brush, cover our tracks, and no one will be the wiser. When we're done, we just walk them back up and go."

We need to be careful doing that; we're a long way from town out here. "But won't someone see us going down the old road?"

He shrugs. "The guards drive down the old road a couple of times a night to make sure no one's here, but I know when they tend to make their rounds. As long as we get to the wash in the next couple of hours, we'll be fine. As for everyone else, well, again, as long as we make it to the wash before the guards can get here, they can't catch us even if someone  _ does  _ see us and call them."

As long as we beat the guards to the wash, we'll be fine. I spend most of the next hour repeating that to myself as we ride out to where the old road meets the highway and then start down the road itself. It's definitely an  _ old _ road, little more than a worn path through the grassy hills. The road is sandier than it looks, and that makes the ride harder and longer than it should be. We have to stop no less than five times to drag Epona or his bike or both out of particularly sandy stretches. 

It's during that fifth stop, while we wrestle Epona free of the sand, that I realize I hear a vehicle in the distance behind us.

" _ Shit _ ," Dark mutters. "We're being followed."

"Do you think it's the highway patrol?"

He checks his watch. "They shouldn't be around this early. We need to get moving; we're almost to the wash."

We jump back onto the just-freed bikes and continue onward. I keep glancing at my mirrors, just  _ waiting _ for a car to come out from behind a hill. But that doesn't happen. Instead, we reach a low, mostly flat patch of sandy dirt that's clearly seen plenty of use as a makeshift parking lot. The fence looms not far beyond, wood and metal standing a good twelve or more feet high. That's a lot taller than I expected the fence to be; getting over it won't be easy.

A large white sign attached to the fence proclaims in tall black letters: "Danger! Area is unstable and prone to sudden subsidence. Entry to this area is prohibited by law."

"This is your last chance to back out," Dark says softly.

"I'm going." I hear the vehicle in the distance again. "Where's the wash?"

"Over there where all the trees are, just past where everyone parks." He starts pushing his bike; I follow with Epona.

Getting into the wash is easier than getting down the road, at least. We find a place where several vine-covered trees twine together; there's just enough room behind them for us to hide, though we have to position our bikes carefully.

And all the while, the vehicle draws closer and closer.

"Do we have time to jump the fence?" I ask, keeping my voice low.

"No, we don't. If there's a car close, they might see us going over. We've got to hide."

Dark brushes our tracks away with a fallen branch while I scramble through the wash. I end up hiding in a large patch of bushes and fallen brush at the base of the trees.. By the time I look back towards the parking area and the road, Dark has vanished.

It's quiet. A faint breeze barely rustles a few leaves, but I barely hear it over the pounding of my own heart. I can hear the vehicle, though, engine roaring and quieting as it makes its way down the old road...

\---

_ Shit _ , this isn't how I planned for this to go. I didn't think we'd get bogged down in the sand so much, and there shouldn't be anyone following us! The evening patrol isn't due for most of an hour!

Still, we can work with this. Just need to stay hidden until whoever that is decides to turn around and go home. And if they don't go home willingly, then I'll find a way to make them.

Too bad I don't have the slightest damned idea how good Link is at staying hidden. He  _ should _ be good at sneaking around, but that doesn't mean he  _ is _ .

Our pursuer finally comes into view: a gray truck. It's not the highway patrol; that's obvious. So if it's not the guard, that really only leaves one other option: Link and I aren't the only ones planning to climb the fence tonight.

Three people climb out of the truck; one of them hops into the back of the truck. They're ruining everything. I don't want company! I just want it to be Link and me! I don't want some stupid idiots getting in the way!

I watch them poke around in the bed of the truck, testing their hand-lanterns and loading their backpacks. They've got more pictography gear than they do actual supplies. And if any of them are armed, they're concealing that fact  _ incredibly _ well, so well that they look completely unarmed. I can sort of understand the appeal of taking pictos of everything, but what kind of  _ idiot _ doesn't have a weapon with them for something like this?

Tch, that's obvious. Idiots like these three.

They're taking their sweet time packing, too. At the rate they're going, they'd better hope the patrol's running late. One of them seems to finally finish and approaches the fence, stopping to take a picto of the warning sign. Seriously? He's wasting a perfectly good slide on a  _ sign?  _ The other two move to follow him.

And in walking towards the fence, they also walk closer to my hiding spot. Closer, but still not quite close  _ enough _ .

"No, really, guys. Something's watching us. I can feel eyes."

"Quit being such a coward. There's nothing here."

"Aren't you the one who spent the drive telling us about which kinds of beasts like this kind of place? You can't spend most of an hour detailing why this place is going to be crawling with Redeads and Poes and who knows what else and then say there's nothing here."

"Both of you knock it off! All that's going to be behind the fence, not out here. That's what the fence is for!"

That's not entirely true.  _ I'm  _ still out here, and I'm pissed that they're ruining things.

I start to creep towards them. I don't know what I'm going to do, but I need to do  _ something _ . The patrol is going to be by soon, and even if they make it over the wall before the guard on patrol gets here, the guard is  _ going  _ to see that truck. And if the damned guard sees the truck, the  _ best  _ outcome is that they'll wait for the truck's owner to come back, which means there will be a guard here a good chunk of the night.

The  _ worst  _ outcome is that the guard goes over the fence in pursuit, but most of the guards who work this area don't seem too keen on that idea. Can't blame them really; they're not equipped to deal with monsters and beasts, and the signs  _ do _ say that's dangerous back there. But if the guard does follow them over the fence, then we're going to have to dodge the guard as well as all the monsters in there.

One outcome means we won't be able to get in, and the other means we'll probably be caught as soon as we get in. So they're both shitty. And if by some miracle the guard doesn't get involved, we still have to deal with these  _ idiots _ . They're  _ going  _ to get themselves into trouble, and I already know that when that happens, Link's going to insist on helping them.

I didn't come all this way to rescue dumbasses.

"Let's just get going already. Standing around here is just wasting time."

"I still think we should come back earlier in the day. I'd rather explore by daylight."

"We're here now, aren't we? Let's just  _ go _ ."

This would be a lot less complicated if I was here alone. Link's presence makes this a pain in the ass, but Link is also the reason we're even  _ here,  _ so... Shit. Options, I have to have options. I could start up one of the bikes to make them think someone's coming, but no, that will probably just make them poke around in the damned wash.

If we wait long enough, they might spook themselves into leaving. But can Link stay hidden that long? If they'll just come a little closer, I can reach out and yank on something. That should spook them. So of  _ course _ they're not getting close enough. They stop to talk again, well away from anything I could use as cover.

If only Link wasn't here, or if he knew that I'm --

_ Click _ .

That's a shutter. The sound carries because it's so quiet. But none of the pains in the ass have their pictoboxes out...

They hear it, though. All three of them start looking around.

"That was a pictobox; I know that sound."

"There's no one out here! Just get over the damn fence already!"

"But it took our pictograph!"

"We haven't done anything illegal yet. It doesn't matter."

"What if someone's watching us? I told you I felt eyes!"

"Do you see anyone around here? We're the only ones here. Now let's go."

"Hey, I didn't sign up to get caught on picto. If that thing sees us go over the wall..."

"It's not going to!" One of them shakes his head and walks to the fence. "Let's just  _ move _ already."

"I don't like this."

"You knew this was trespassing before we got here."

"Yeah, but I didn't know anything about a damn pictobox! I really don't need to get caught."

"You were all for this earlier today."

"And earlier today I didn't think I was going to get caught. I  _ really  _ don't need this."

The first one just shakes his head again. "Fine, then. Wait out here." He starts climbing the fence.

_ Click _ .

The fence-climber jumps so much in shock that he falls to the ground. I manage to resist the urge to laugh out loud; looks like even the bravest one of them is scared.

"We're going to get caught!"

"Just get over the fence!" the fence-climber snaps.

"I don't see you doing it! We need to just get out of here!"

"Both of you shut up! I hear something."

"The pictobox again?"

No, not the pictobox. Now that they've stopped talking, it gets quiet again. And now that it's quiet, I hear an engine in the distance.

"Shit! Someone's coming! We have to get out of here!"

"Over the fence, come on!"

"Even if they don't get our pictos, we can't hide the truck! We need to get out of here, now!"

"How? You all saw the road. There's only one way out, and that's the same way they're coming from."

"We have to do something..."

"Hide the gear. Maybe we can talk our way out of it if it's not obvious why we're here."

I have to fight to keep from laughing as they scramble around the truck in a mad dash to hide their equipment.

The engine gets closer and closer, and then a white truck rounds the last bend. Not just  _ any  _ white truck, of course. It's one of the Western Hyrule Highway Patrol's trucks. And for once in my life, I'm actually glad to see it.

The truck eases to a halt, and a guard climbs out. She hasn't said a word yet, and she already looks annoyed. "Good afternoon, gentlemen," she says flatly. "Mind if I ask what you're doing out here?"

They look at each other, trying to get someone else to do the talking. After a moment, the fence-climber steps forward. "We were just curious where this road went."

"I find that a bit hard to believe, sir. This isn't the kind of place people just stumble upon, yeah? I'll remind you that the area behind the fence is off-limits and that I could fine you for even being here."

"How?" one of the others blurts out. "We haven't done anything yet!"

"Be quiet, idiot!"

The guard crosses her arms and shakes her head slowly. She looks completely unimpressed. "You three are going to have to come with me."

"What? But we haven't crossed the fence!"

"I don't know that. All I know is that there's no reason for you to be out here other than trespassing. Either way, you're not staying here. Do I make myself clear?"

I'm torn. This is hilarious, but it's also tedious. There's nothing to do except stay hidden while the guard gets on her radio and then fills out some kind of paperwork. The three idiots have paperwork, too, and then they talk. Well, it's less talk and more lecture on the guard's part, but I'm not really listening to it.

Instead, I listen to the wind rustling in the trees and bushes. It's been a while; how's Link doing? How much longer is he going to be able to stay hidden?

_ Finally _ the guard finishes whatever it is she's been doing, and the four of them climb into their vehicles and drive down the road, the guard following the idiots. About damned time. I step out of my hiding spot and stretch. Okay, so my plan isn't  _ entirely _ ruined, just set back.

Branches rustle as Link crawls out of a bush, carrying my pictobox. So he's the one behind the mysterious shutter. Wait. My pictobox is  _ loaded. _

"So you're good at hiding and clever. Good to know."

He looks tired. "I'm decent."

"How many pictographs did you take?" I was more interested in the dumbasses than in the number of clicks.

"Huh? Oh, right." Link reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a stack of pictograph slides. "I took the slides out before I started clicking the shutter. I almost forgot I had these." His cheeks start turning red. "I'm sorry. I should've asked."

_ Extra  _ quick thinking! I'm impressed. "How were you going to ask me, huh?" I take the pictobox and reload the slides. None of them look damaged or distorted. "Besides, if you hadn't started clicking the shutter, we might still be stuck hiding."

He's still embarrassed. "I just thought it was worth a try."

"Hey, I'm saying it was a great idea." I grin at him. He doesn't even realize how clever that was, does he? "Then here we are, point of no return. Do you still want to do this, or have you changed your mind?"

"How many times are you going to ask me that, Dark? I didn't come out here to turn back at the last minute."

I nod. Good, that's what I want to see. "Then we'd better get going, huh? The more daylight you have to get familiar with the place, the better."

"You still need to show me how to use the Lens."

"Right, damn. All right, I'll do that as soon as we get over. Let's grab our gear. The guard should be busy with those idiots for a while, but who knows when she'll come around again. They tend to step up the patrols for several days every time they catch someone."

"They're no more idiots than we are, Dark. They wanted to do the same thing we're doing."

I have to laugh. Us, the same as them? "Nah, see, we're completely different. We're not here looking for ghosts or excitement. We're here because we're  _ supposed  _ to be here."

Link gives me a skeptical look. "Are you going to explain that?"

"It'll make sense later. Trust me."

He sighs. "I'm holding you to that."

"No worries, Link. Things will make a lot more sense by the end of this weekend. I promise."


	4. Chapter 3

The graveyard doesn't look like I expected. It doesn't really look like a graveyard at all. It looks more like rolling, grassy hills dotted with small clumps of forest, all stretching off into the distance. Here and there weathered stone statues of knights and goddesses and other human figures rise from the grass or stand half-covered by the moss and vines hanging from the trees. In the distance, I can just make out the forms of structures, probably mausoleums.

I can see a few headstones peeking up through the grass and flowers, but there don't seem to be nearly enough for the size of the area. Dark did say that a lot of the stones have fallen over, didn't he? Yes, he's right. Now that I take a closer look, I can see small gaps in the grass; those gaps must be where headstones have fallen over and are covering patches of grass.

The sun is low in the sky behind us, casting long, dark shadows that stretch out in front of us. Graveyards near sunset are always kind of eerie, in my opinion, but this... This somehow manages to be even more eerie. I don't know if it's the gaps in the grass or the age on all of the stone structures or the way the whole place looks so untouched by human hands or what exactly. But it's  _ eerie _ .

I feel almost like I've stepped into another time or something. It doesn't help that Dark and I are the only moving things in sight.

"I thought you said there were monsters in here."

"We just hopped the fence. There's not much over here. We'll see more later. Oh, right. Speaking of which..." He holds the Lens out to me. "I need to show you how to use this. Have you ever fed magic into something?"

"A couple of times, yes. Is that all I need to do?"

"Yeah. Just feed it some magic to activate it, and then just look through it. You should probably do that soon, too. There are probably some Moas around here."

"Moas?" Do I know what those are? I want to say I do, but at the same time, I don't think I do.

"Flying eyes with no wings." Dark kneels down and starts digging through his pack.

That kind of thing is  _ here _ ? I need to be able to see those things if they are! I have to shove my magic towards the Lens several times before the handle starts vibrating gently in my hand. That means I activated its power, right? I hold it up and look around. 

Everything has a faint pink-purple tinge, but it isn't as noticeable now as it was at the tavern. Is it because of the magic or something else?

Something swoops between two clumps of trees in the distance; it's just large enough to see. From here, it looks roughly oval-shaped, rippling through the air as it swoops back and forth. What  _ is _ that?

I lower the Lens, but no, I still see it. Is it really there? "Dark, how exactly does this work? I can see it, but I'm not looking through the Lens."

"Y'know, you don't have keep holding it up to your face. You can just stick it somewhere or wear it or whatever. Once you start feeding magic through it, it starts doing its thing, and it's not going to deactivate on its own. It'll keep working until you stop feeding it magic. Besides, how do you expect to fight anything while you're holding something up to your face?"

That actually makes a lot of sense. I almost ask him how I'm supposed to  _ wear _ something that looks like a magnifying glass, but instead I slip the Lens into the hidden pocket inside my jacket. I think I'd rather carry it like this, anyway. And then I open my bow case, because I really want to be armed now. It takes a couple of minutes to put on my quiver and gloves and adjust them so they sit the way I like, and then another minute or so to quickly restring my bow and sling the now-empty case back over my shoulder.

There. This makes me feel a little better.

But only a little. I can still see the strange oval-shaped thing swooping around, and now it's not alone.

There are creatures that are only visible with magical assistance, creatures invisible to normal vision. The legends speak of how the hero is able to see what is unseen. Is something like this what they mean? It's certainly possible.

And more than a little unnerving. Are they one of the reasons this area is off-limits? There's no way a normal person would be able to see those things. What if they escaped the fence?

"What're you staring at?" Dark asks.

I point, only to remember as I do that he can't see it. So I describe it to him instead.

"That's a Moa. It's harmless as long as it doesn't smack into you, but it can hit surprisingly hard, so keep an eye out for them. We should get moving. It's a bit of a walk to the old tunnel." He sighs and adjusts his baldric; he's wearing a sword across his back now that he didn't have earlier. It looks weirdly fitting, like he's meant to have a sword on him like that. "I  _ wanted  _ to get there while there was still daylight left, but it'll be dark by the time we get there.

"Ah, well. Might as well show you where it is anyway. I bet you can still find something to interest you. You're not afraid of the dark, are you?"

"Should I be?" I'm a little leery about walking around here after dark, but I'm not afraid of the dark itself. And he  _ did _ say he'll watch my back for me.

He snickers and winks at me. "You tell me."

"That's not very helpful, Dark."

"No, but it's true. Do  _ you _ think you should be afraid of the dark?"

I sigh. "You said you'd watch my back."

"I meant it, too."

"But I'm the one with the Lens."

"Relax. I can see the Moas, too. I'm not walking around blind, y'know. I can probably see better than you can." He grins. "So. We can start for the tunnel, or I can let you wander around a little and take in the sights. Either way, we'll be doing a lot of night hiking."

"Honestly, I think I'd rather just head for the tunnel while there's still a little daylight left." I  _ want  _ to find some interesting stones and take rubbings, but between how creepy this place is and the Moa flying around... No, I don't think I want to kneel down and focus on something below me at a time like this. Not unless I find something  _ really  _ interesting.

"All right. Then watch your step and don't be afraid to get your lantern out. This is going to take a while."

He's right about that. The going is rough, and I trip over fallen headstones several times. Night falls quickly once the sun sinks below the fence line. All of the trees scattered around don't help; they block out enough of the sky that it gets  _ dark _ .

And as it gets dark, I start hearing movement around us, as well as chittering and moaning and a low keening... Whatever is making the noises is staying away from my lantern's light. The Moas don't. They -- and the farther into the graveyard we walk, the more of them I see -- swoop and dive through the air, darting in and out of the hemisphere of light my lantern creates, dark things that flicker and vanish in the blink of an eye.

It's enough to almost make me put away the Lens, but only almost. As time passes, they're creeping closer and closer, and I just know that if I stop watching them, then they'll start diving at me.

The Moas distract me enough that it's well and truly dark before I realize that Dark doesn't have a lantern. He's walking slightly ahead of me, peering into the gloom.

"Don't you need a lantern?"

"I'm fine. I've got really good night vision."

I'm not sure what to think about that. He can't be lying, because he's doing a better job of dodging obstacles than I am. But it doesn't seem possible. The moon hasn't risen yet, and the trees block a lot of the stars, so there isn't much light at all. How can he see?

I don't get a chance to work that out. A Moa swoops in close, not close enough to actually hit me, but more than close enough to startle me. I jump back and nearly trip over something hard on the ground.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah. They're just getting really close."

He looks around and nods; his eyes glow faintly in the lantern light. "They're good at that. Kill them if they get too close."

"Kill them? Isn't that a bit much? Can't we just scare them away?"

"They're spirits; they'll keep coming at you until either they or you are dead. If you really don't want to kill them, then just dodge them. But it's a lot easier to just kill them and be done with it."

Maybe they're trying to scare us. That could be it. I'll just try to not let them startle me. I brought my bow with me so I could defend myself, but that doesn't mean I'm going to start killing things for no good reason.

In the end, it doesn't really matter. After a while, I stop seeing the Moas at all. My head starts aching. Probably from the strain of trying to find safe places to put my feet or just stress in general. It doesn't help that I still hear things moving around in the dark.

Dark stops abruptly and starts digging through his pack. "Damn it, we should be there by now."

That doesn't sound good. "I thought you knew where we were going."

"I do know where we're going. It's just that there aren't really a whole lot of landmarks around here, as I'm sure you've noticed."

I haven't, honestly. I should be looking around for interesting things to examine, but for a while, I was watching the Moas, and now I'm expecting something to rush us from outside the light. "Are we lost?"

He pulls out a compass and stares down at it. "We're not lost. Once I get my bearings, we'll be  _ fine _ . Why are you so on edge, anyway?"

Isn't it  _ obvious _ ? "This place is creepy, Dark. Something's moving around out there, and I know we're being watched." The weird glow to his eyes isn't helping. People don't have glowing -- no, it must just be a trick of the light.

"I told you there were monsters here."

Technically, he did, but I wasn't exactly expecting  _ this _ . Something's skittering in the trees above us and moving through the grass not far away, and they know we're here. I almost feel like they're being drawn to the light like giant, evil moths. I don't know what they are or exactly where they are. They could rush us at any time, and now Dark doesn't know where we are, and why did I agree to come out here again?

"Hey, just relax. We're going to be fine. It's just a few monsters."

"Just a few monsters?" Is he  _ serious _ ? "How can you be so calm at a time like this?"

"How? Tch, they're barely even threatening. I've dealt with worse things unarmed."

"You do realize this raises a lot of questions that you need to answer, don't you?"

"What kind of questions?"

"How about the obvious one of why are we even out here? I'm starting to think you got us lost on purpose so you can do something to me!" I should've thought of this sooner. If something happens to me here, then the monsters are going to eat me. No one will ever find my body.

And I didn't tell anyone where I was going this weekend because I knew they'd try to talk me out of it. If something happens, I'll just vanish, and no one will ever know what happened to me.

I'm sorry, Vael.

"We're here so I can show you the old tunnel. A bunch of the graves over that way are still intact, and I figured you'd be interested in them." He gives me a concerned look. "You're really starting to freak out, aren't you? I thought you'd be braver than this."

"I keep asking myself why I even came out here. This is all a trick, isn't it? You're working with the monsters! Or maybe you're a monster yourself." His eyes look like they're glowing, and the legends mention people who turn into winged  _ things _ , and if all the other legends are being proven true, then... "You lured me out here so you or something else could  _ eat me! _ "

"Shit. This must be more of a shock than it was supposed to be." He takes a step towards me, holding up his hands. "Think about it, Link. If I wanted to eat you, I would've attacked you in the desert, especially since you pulled over so quickly. It would've been  _ easy _ to kill you and eat you then. All the work of luring you out here is too much effort for a damned meal. I didn't bring you here so anything could eat you, I swear."

"How do I know? You're too calm! Why else would you be so  _ calm _ ?"

"I've done this before, remember? I've been out here before, so I know what to expect. Just try to stay calm. There's no reason to panic, all right? I said I'd watch your back, and I mean it. I'm not going to let anything..."

Why did he stop?

He scowls at me. "Link, get down!"

What? I drop down to my knees. I hear a sword being drawn and something whoosh through the air and then a high-pitched shriek that quickly fades. When I look up, Dark is standing over me, his sword over my head.

"You're trying to kill me!"

"Why would I warn you if I was trying to kill you? You didn't see the damned Moa flying in front of your face? It was headed straight for your head! Why did you turn the Lens off? Do you  _ want  _ to get hurt?"

What is he --? "I didn't turn it off!" What does he mean in front of my face? I would've seen it. I yank the Lens out of my jacket; it's not humming anymore. Huh?

Oh. At least now I know why my head aches: I'm out of magic. Damn it, this isn't good. I run a hand through my hair and sigh heavily. This just keeps getting better and better. "I used all my magic."

"All of it? Shit, I thought you'd last longer. You sit down while I figure out a new plan."

We're close to a tree, so I set my lantern on an exposed root and lean against the trunk. The Lens goes back into my jacket to keep it out of the way. This isn't good at all. Now I don't even know where the Moas are. The noises just keep getting louder. The monsters are getting closer.

Or maybe they just sound closer because I'm focusing so much on them. I don't know. Farore, my heart's pounding.

"...got to walk all the way back out and now we don't have the Lens. Shit. We should probably just go before things get worse..." Dark mutters.

One of the sounds is closer than the rest, a skittering that sounds like it's coming from above me. I look up, raising my lantern for a better look, but... I don't see anything. No, wait, I  _ do _ see something. A spider, a really, really big spider, moving through the branches towards me. 

"...aren't normally so many monsters out here. I should be able to get us back to the fence. We can always hike back to the wash from wherever as long as we're careful... "

It's trying to get the drop on me, isn't it? I set my lantern down so I can nock an arrow, taking a few steps away from the tree for a better shot.

And then I trip on something large and fall backwards, landing hard on my quiver; something snaps. The impact makes me lose my grip on my arrow, and it goes flying into the air with a twang.

"Link? You okay over there?"

"Ow... I'm all right. I just tripped over --" I look down towards my boots and go rigid. It's a skull. I just tripped over a  _ skull _ . It looks like a human skull, but it's too big, easily twice the size it should be.

"Link?" Dark starts walking towards me. "What's wrong?"

"I just tripped over someone's skull!" Did the monsters eat whoever this was, or is this a monster's skull?

He sighs. "It's an old graveyard. There are bones all over the place."

"They're supposed to be buried deep enough that this doesn't happen!"

"Yeah, well, graves collapse, people dig them up, things happen."

People dig them up... "Is that why you come out here? Are you a grave robber?"

"Oh, for the love of... I'm not a grave robber, Thrice damn it! I'm not a fucking monster; I'm not a fucking grave robber; I'm trying to be your friend here!"

"Are you really? This is all too suspicious!"

"Will you calm down already? Look, I didn't drag you out here. You're here because you want to be. If I was trying to hurt you, then why did I warn you about the monsters? Why would I want you to bring a weapon? Quit jumping to conclusions and  _ think  _ about it, Link."

I think he's right. That does make sense. This  _ is _ a lot of work to go through just to kill me. And these graves haven't been dug up. The ground is undisturbed. There's just a skull sitting there, peeking up through the dirt, almost like something pushed it up from below.

I really need to calm down; I focus on just breathing for a moment. There's an explanation for this. I don't know what it is, but there's a perfectly reasonable explanation  _ somewhere _ . 

"I really don't want to be here anymore," I say.

"Yeah, I know. You calm down, and I'll get my bearings, and we'll head back to the fence. You can still walk, right?"

"I'm fine." I climb to my feet. I ache, but that won't keep me from walking. My quiver doesn't feel broken, nor do my arrows. Then what broke? A twig? Maybe a bone? I don't like that thought.

I hear footsteps behind me. That was fast; does he already have his bearings? I turn towards --

No, that's  _ not _ Dark.  _ That _ is some kind of skeletal creature with a not-quite-human skull and long claws on the ends of its fingers. And it's not alone. More of them are clawing their way up from the dirt, their bones clicking towards as they move towards me.

They're going to attack me! I fire an arrow at the closest one, striking it on the forehead; it makes a strange raspy noise and jerks back, but it recovers and keeps coming. I fire another one, hitting it on the sternum, and this time it shatters and collapses into pieces of bone and a cloud of dust. Arrows work! It doesn't seem like they should, but I don't care -- I'll take whatever I can get. There are still more of them coming. Where are they all coming from?

I hear more raspy yells and bone shattering; is Dark fighting them? I can't see him. I shatter several more of the things, some with only one shot, until I have to step back to get more room. There's too many of them; I don't have enough arrows to deal with this many!

Something chuckles, deep and menacing, behind me. I turn around and somehow manage to dodge the sword swinging at me. The thing holding the sword is  _ tall _ , nearly twice my height. It's nothing but bones and armor and a sword, but it's  _ huge _ and it's  _ armed  _ and it's a Stalfos!

It swings its sword back, but I don't stick around to see if it attacks me again. Instead, I yell, and I run.

I run out of the ring of light and into the darkness; they give chase, clicking and chuckling behind me. In no time at all, I'm forced to run blind, stumbling over roots and headstones and scrambling on all fours until something slams hard into the case on my back and I stumble again and land sprawled out on the ground. My limbs are heavy. I can barely breathe. I can't run anymore. All I can do is tense up and try to hold still. Is this it? Am I going to die now?

I don't hear anything close... I still hear the skeletal things, but they're in the distance and getting further away. They're not chasing me anymore? I roll over onto my back and try to catch my breath.

Where's Dark? Is he all right? I just left him behind to die, didn't I? The competent ones always die first, and he's definitely more competent than I am. No, this isn't a monster movie. This is real. But I still don't know if he's all right. There were a lot of those things.

Why did I come out here? Damn my curiosity anyway!

I don't know how long I lay there. Long enough for the moon to rise and for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. I'm not quite so panicky anymore. I've been here a while, and nothing's come up to eat me. That's something.

The thing with a sword is a Stalfos. None of the stories I'm familiar with say that they're so much taller than a grown man, but what else could it be? The other things look like Stalfos, but I don't think that's exactly what they are. They're too small, almost child-sized compared to the big one. An army of Stalfos children clawing up from underground... That's terrifying. Why are there so many more of the child-sized ones?

No, I don't want to think about that. I still don't know where Dark is; that's more important. I want to try calling for him, but I  _ really _ don't want to draw any more attention to myself than I absolutely have to. At this rate, I'm going to have to wait for dawn, aren't I? I think I am.

My clothing's torn. My knee hurts; when I touch it, it feels raw and sticky with half-dried blood. My chest aches from where I landed on the Lens. My bowstring is broken, but it doesn't matter; all of my arrows are gone. My lantern is still back at that tree. I have no idea where I am or even which direction I ran. I don't have any magic. I'm injured, and I'm still in a graveyard full of invisible spirits, monsters, and restless dead. I'm hungry. I'm exhausted.

And I'm alone.

I stare up at the sky. I don't really want to be trapped in here until dawn, but I don't know if I dare start wandering around, either. I'm most worried about not being able to see. I could try building a fire, but the monsters were attracted to the light before, and I still had a way to defend myself then. And I wasn't bleeding.

Laying here isn't getting me anywhere. I manage to get on my feet and limp over to a large statue so I can sit down and lean against it. I fumble in my pack and pull out a bandanna and my water bottle so I can clean and wrap my knee. I think I just scraped it, but I won't know for sure until I get somewhere with better light. I won't be able to bandage it properly until then, either. Right now, I don't really care.

I take a long drink from the bottle before putting it back in my pack. My bow goes back in its case, because it's not really any use to me anymore. I work the Lens out of my jacket and run my hand over it; it doesn't feel broken, so I put it in the case before it  _ does  _ break. At least the case is sturdy enough that I could use it to club something. And I still have my knife; I'm not completely defenseless. 

There's a light in the distance. Is that my lantern? I almost head towards it, but something's not quite right. The lantern is too high above the ground; someone would have to be carrying it over their head. It's moving too easily, crossing the uneven ground without the slightest wobble up or down. It's  _ floating _ , hovering above the headstones. Periodically, it stops, and when it does, it sways back and forth and chings quietly.

It moves like it's being held, but I don't see anyone. I should be able to; the light should fall on who or whatever is carrying it, but there's nothing there. I wonder if I could see it with the Lens, but I don't have the magic and I'm not sure I really want to see it even if I did. I've already seen too many spirits and dead things tonight.

Instead, I watch the strange floating lantern for a while until I'm satisfied that it's not coming towards me. Then I lean my head back against the statue and close my eyes, listening. I don't hear anything except the wind. No monsters, no Keese, not even bugs... Nothing but leaves rustling and my heart pounding in my ears. Every so often, I can hear the faint chinging of the floating lantern in the distance, but it never gets closer.

It stays like that for a while, long enough that I almost fall asleep. But before I can, I start hearing another sound: footsteps. Something human-sized is walking around out there, and it's walking towards me. And it just keeps getting closer and closer, and something knows I'm here, doesn't it? That's the only explanation. Something knows I'm here, and it's coming for me.

I can't see it, but I do see two small glowing red lights. Unlike the floating lantern, these two lights move like they're attached to something walking on uneven ground, and their movement matches the footsteps. They're not lights, are they? They're  _ eyes _ . It's a monster, isn't it? It has to be; what else is there out here?

I slowly draw my knife and hold it close, trying not to move any more than I must. It isn't easy, but I force myself to breathe slow and deep. There's only one thing moving, only one set of glowing eyes. I can handle one monster. I hope. Farore, please let me be able to handle one monster.

The footsteps are almost here now. I can't keep my breathing slow, so I focus more on just trying to breathe as quietly as possible. It knows I'm here, but I don't want it to know I'm afraid. I tighten my grip on my knife. Another couple of steps and...

Now! I leap to my feet and snap my knife hand above my head, stabbing downward as hard as I can.

My wrist smacks into something; the monster is blocking! It knows I'm trying to attack and -- I jerk my arm sideways in an awkward slash. If I can hurt it, good, but mostly, I just want my knife free. The end of my knife catches on something as it moves.

"Ow!" The glowing eyes narrow. "Hey, what was that for?"

That doesn't sound like a monster. That sounds like... "Dark, is that you?"

"Who else would it be? Okay, so you're more dangerous than I thought. Good to know."

Wait, my knife caught. That means... oh,  _ no _ . "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you!"

"Didn't mean to hurt me? Oh, right, that's why you tried to stab me."

"How was I supposed to know it was  _ you _ ? I've been out here listening to monsters walking around for I don't know how long, and then you just walk up here without a word! I can't see in the dark! All I can see are your glowing eyes!" At least the darkness is useful for  _ something _ ; he can't see my face, so he can't see me looking so flustered and frustrated.

Dark laughs. Why is he laughing? "Eh, try not to worry about it. It's just a scratch. And really, I didn't think my eyes would be that creepy compared to everything else."

"It's not funny, and people don't have glowing eyes. Why do you have glowing eyes?!" At least if he _is_ a monster, he doesn't seem that intent on eating me.

What am I saying? It's probably some weird magical glamour effect he uses to creep people out. That sounds like him. Or maybe it's a side-effect of whatever magic he's using to see in the dark. It might even be the magic that lets him see the Moas -- I couldn't exactly see my face when I was using the Lens earlier, so maybe my eyes looked like they were glowing, too. That seems a lot more probable than him being a monster.

I think. My head hurts. "What happened after I ran?"

"What do you think happened? The Stalfos and all those Stalchildren showed up, you ran -- which was smart, by the way, so don't think of it as cowardly -- and I spent a while fighting them off. You outran a bunch of Stalchildren in a place like this without your light; I'm actually impressed. I ran into them once I killed everything that was coming after me and went looking for you. And then you decided to attack me."

"How did you find me in the dark?" I need to wipe off my knife, but on what? I don't want blood on my clothes. I reach down carefully and wipe the blade on the bandanna tied around my injured knee.

He laughs again. "Isn't it obvious, Link? I can see in the dark."

"How?" No, it's  _ not _ obvious. People can't see in the dark. The moon's out right now, and I  _ still _ can't see very well. "Does it have something to do with why your eyes are glowing? Which you still haven't explained, by the way."

"Would you believe me if I told you? You've had a rough night, so let's just get out of here, okay?" He sighs. "For what it's worth, this wasn't how I meant for this to go."

I lean back against the statue and close my eyes just so I don't have to see his anymore. "And how did you mean for this to go?"

"I  _ meant _ to show you that old tunnel and maybe even the old temple beyond it, but... I wasn't expecting quite so many monsters. There normally aren't so many. So I'm sorry. We should go before they catch up."

Right. I want out of this graveyard. "Did you happen to grab my lantern?" It would really help if I could see where I'm going.

"Huh? Oh, well, yeah. Here you go." He presses something into my hands.

I take my lantern and sigh. Oh, thank the goddesses. "You might want to close your eyes. This'll be bright." I fumble with my lantern for a moment and look away as the light flickers on.  _ Ow _ , that's brighter than I expected.

The strange floating lantern in the distance doesn't react to the sudden light. It's still the only thing I can see that's moving.

Dark looks... well, he does look like he's been fighting. His hair is messy, and dirt and dust are smeared on his arms here and there along with a few scratches and cuts. His right cheek has a cut, too, a thin horizontal line that's still seeping something that's somehow both inky and wispy. It doesn't look right for blood, but what else could it be?

His eyes aren't glowing anymore, or if they are, I don't see the glow. They're still intense and bright in the light, and now I'm convinced the color  _ isn't  _ just a trick of the light. That isn't the only thing unusual about them, either. His pupils are tiny in the light, but they're not the tiny dots they should be; instead, his pupils are thin slits, like a cat's eyes.

No, the glow can't just be a glamour or a side-effect. His eyes aren't human eyes. And if his eyes aren't human, then he really is...

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"What are you?" My voice sounds so tiny.

He closes his eyes and sighs. "We need to get you out of here before something else happens. After that, well... Once you calm down, I'll explain everything."  
  
"Everything?"

"Whatever you want to know. Not sure how much of it you'll believe, but I'll tell you anyway. Later." He starts walking, grabbing my free hand and tugging me after him. "Come on; the fence is this way."

I follow him. I don't really have a choice in the matter, and I'm too tired to protest. Maybe his weird pupils were just a trick of the light... That could be it. I'm tired, and my eyes are readjusting to the light, and after everything that's happened tonight, my mind has to be playing tricks on me.

I need sleep. I need a bed and a door I can lock. Food is good, too, but I'll settle for a bed and a shower. I need the chance to make this all make  _ sense _ .

Dark knows where we're going this time, thankfully. It doesn't seem to take long at all before we reach the fence again. That's good, because my injured knee hurts more and more as time goes on. He has to help me climb up the fence and down the other side, partly because of my knee and partly because I turn off my lantern so we won't be so noticeable.

I breathe a huge sigh of relief as my boots touch ground that  _ isn't  _ graveyard.

We're not far from the wash holding our bikes. That's a small miracle, I think. We get the bikes out of the wash without too much trouble, and there aren't any vehicles sitting around or approaching this time. I should bandage my knee, but... We're not behind the fence anymore. We could be seen here. But I don't know if the bandanna will hold for the ride, and I  _ really  _ don't want my knee exposed to the air for the trip back to town.

My jeans are torn. I can feel the gaps in the fabric over my knee. I really don't want to have to do this, but I left my riding pants at home, so I don't have a better option. I duck behind a bush and change jeans, retying the bandanna around my knee before pulling my jeans up. Ow, even with my bandana in the way, the friction hurts.

"What're you doing over there?" Dark asks; his tone of voice implies he knows exactly what I'm doing.

There's a bush in the way. He can't see me. I try to move faster just the same. "Changing jeans."

"You didn't have to hide, y'know."

"I wanted some privacy." Does he really think I'm going to take my pants off in front of him? I don't like taking off or changing clothing in front of anyone, except maybe Vael. Maybe.

"Yeah, yeah... Seriously, you could've just asked me not to look."

"I'm more comfortable like this." Right now, I need some comfort.

I already know I'm in no condition to drive all the way back to Northcastle. I'm just going to go to Mido Town and find a motel, and once I get there, I can take a long shower and bandage my knee. I think. It's better than trying to do it here. I sigh and climb onto Epona. It's a plan.

"You going to be able to drive, Link?"

"I'll be fine. Are we going to get caught?"

"The next patrol shouldn't be for another hour or more. We should be fine as long as we get moving."

We manage to only get bogged down in the sand twice on the way back out to the highway. It's a massive relief to be back on a paved road. I head towards Mido Town. Dark doesn't follow me, which seems weird. This is the faster route to Northcastle, unless he's going somewhere else? No, I don't care. I want sleep.

The highway is mostly empty, with only a few trucks, the occasional car, and a highway patrol vehicle that spends miles behind me. I try to keep calm, because there's no way for the guard to know where I've been, but I can't shake the feeling that lights will start flashing in my mirrors at any moment. The only flashing lights are in my paranoid head, though. Instead, the vehicle turns off the highway onto a side road and quickly vanishes from view behind a hill. I sigh into my helmet. I just want tonight to be over already.

It's after midnight by the time I reach the motel. It's  _ only _ about fifteen minutes after midnight. I swear it should be later than that, but both my watch and the clock in the lobby disagree with me. I shake my head; even my sense of time is off tonight. I should probably just be thankful that I was able to drive here and that the guards didn't catch me in a restricted area. 

I rent a cheap room and go inside. It's nothing fancy, but right now, even a motel bed looks  _ wonderful. _ I toss my bags against the wall by the table and put my riding gear on the tabletop while I work out what to do now. I should probably order some kind of delivery before everything closes for the night, but... No, I want a shower more.

I ease off my jeans, trying not to snag my makeshift bandage as I do. My knee isn't as injured as I thought it was. It's covered in dried blood, and the bandanna sticks to it a little, but it just looks scraped. That's a relief. It probably hurts so much because moving puts pressure on it. Probably. I'll worry more about it tomorrow.

It doesn't take me long to get clean, even cleaning my knee. It takes a lot longer under the hot water to get the tension and soreness out of my aching body. It gives me time to think, time I probably don't need.

How am I supposed to feel now? I don't really know. What was I thinking, going to a place like that? I'm lucky that all I got is a scraped knee and a quiver's worth of missing arrows. I could've been killed. I shouldn't have agreed to this. I don't know how well I can actually trust Dark... but he was trying to keep me safe, wasn't he?

Do his eyes really look like that? Was it just a trick of the light? Was it my imagination? I just don't know. Should I let him try to explain all of this? Should I just avoid him?

I feel better, at least physically. I dry off and walk out into the room so I can get dressed. First, though, I get out my little first aid kit and bandage my knee. It's not the prettiest, but right now all I  _ really _ care about is that it's covered so it stays clean. I grab the first pair of boxer shorts I find in my bag and pull them on. This will do for now; I don't feel like wearing pants tonight.

I sigh and fall onto the bed. Being clean is good, as is being less achy and more bandaged, but now my thoughts are racing.

So much went wrong, and I could have died, but... I've known that some monsters really exist for a long time. I grew up in Kakariko City; the grasslands east of the city are prone to Bit and Bot infestations, and there are Goriyas in the winding canyons and sandy plateaus to the west. But Stalfos... I thought those only existed in movies, and I've never even  _ heard _ of Moas before.

Invisible monsters... The concept makes no sense, even though I know what I saw. And yet it does make sense, in a way... There was an abandoned village so saturated by evil that the very air seemed to lash out at any who dared enter, and yet somehow, the hero was able to walk into the village and find the powerful magic hidden within. What if it wasn't the air that lashed out, but Moas?

And in the old temples, forgotten palaces, and hidden dungeons, the restless dead rose and walked and attacked anything that came close. They clearly aren't spirits -- there are other references to spirits in the legends. These restless dead are  _ solid _ . Some of them are clearly referred to as using weapons and wearing armor, just like that Stalfos I saw in the graveyard. The Stalchildren, as Dark called them, definitely 'rose and walked and attacked anything that came close'.

The heroes saw these things. The heroes  _ fought _ these things. I'm sure of it.

I can't prove any of it. I don't have records of where Dark got the bracelet and the Lens, so they could technically come from  _ anywhere _ . And the Stalfos and the Moas and whatever it was that held the floating lantern are all inside a restricted area that I don't have permission to be in, so I can't really use them as proof without admitting to a crime.

I sigh and stare up at the ceiling. This really isn't what I should be dwelling on right now, is it?

I just spent half the night in a forbidden, crumbling graveyard full of  _ monsters _ and injured myself  _ running for my life _ from Stalchildren, and what am I laying here thinking about? The legends of the hero and how this matches with them.

"Din, Nayru, and Farore, Link," I say with a groan. "You should be more worried about how you almost  _ died _ doing something incredibly  _ stupid _ . Why isn't that fact bothering you more?!"

"Maybe it's because part of you is used to this kind of thing. Or maybe you're just that obsessed with legends. Kind of hard to tell."

Who said that? I sit up on the bed, but no, of course there's no one in my room. I'm in here by myself, and the television isn't on. I'm reasonably certain the rooms on either side of mine are empty. It wasn't loud enough to be a yell, and it's not muffled.

The sound is coming from inside this room.

I climb off the bed and go for my knife. "Who's there?"

"You and that stupid little knife." The voice sounds amused. "It didn't work the first time, remember?"

"Dark? Is that you? Where are you?" How did he get in here? How did he even find me? I know I never saw him behind me on the road! And why can't I see him?

He laughs. "Are you sure you want to know the answer to that?"

This is one thing I refuse to wait until  _ later  _ to have explained. " _ Yes _ , I want to know the answer, damn it! If I ask a question, it's because I  _ want to know the answer! _ "

"Well, doesn't  _ that  _ sound familiar? Didn't I say the same thing to you?"

" _ I'm _ not the one who keeps saying he'll explain everything  _ later _ ." Is he under the bed? No, there's nothing there. 

"So? I don't want to overwhelm you."

"It's a little late for that, Dark." The closet? No, he's not here, either.

"Don't waste your time looking for me, Link. You aren't going to find me." He sounds proud of that.

I reach up and rub my temples. He's taunting me. Maybe he  _ isn't  _ here. All I know for  _ certain _ is that I can hear him. What if it's a handheld radio? He could've hid one in my bag when I wasn't looking... "Fine. Don't answer me. I don't know why I expected a  _ stalker _ to bother with answers." 

"A stalker? Really? I think I preferred it when you were convinced I was a monster going to eat you."

I open my bags and dig through them, looking for anything that doesn't belong. There has to be a little radio in here. The sound is far too clear to be a radio, completely free of static, but I can't think of any other explanation that fits the evidence.

But there's no radio here.

I walk all the way around the room, opening every drawer and door, trying and failing to find  _ anything _ that could be making noise. Where is his voice  _ coming  _ from? This doesn't make any sense! I know it's late and I know I'm tired, but I'm not so tired I'm hearing things, am I? Then again, I  _ have  _ hallucinated before... but that was nothing like this. 

"How are you doing this?" I fall onto the edge of the bed and stare down at the floor. What is going  _ on _ here? I'm starting to feel like I'm losing my mind. Or maybe I already have.

"Look up." Dark's voice sounds like it's coming from the wall at the head of the bed. It's clearly not coming  _ through _ the wall, but how does a voice come  _ from  _ a wall when there's no radio or speaker or even a vent?

I try to keep my voice from shaking. "And what am I supposed to be seeing?" There's a lamp and the low headboard and a generic-looking painting of flowers and my shadow and  _ nothing else _ .

And then my shadow starts moving, even though I'm not. It gets darker, and then something rises from the wall, stretching out towards me. For an instant, the  _ thing _ is inky black with wispy, ill-defined gray edges. And then it's  _ solid _ and it has  _ form  _ and  _ depth _ ... I yell in shock and jump, turning in the air and crashing to the floor.

I know that form. It's a head, a human head and shoulders, jutting sideways out of a  _ solid wall _ as if this were somehow the most normal thing in the world. I still see wispy gray where the figure meets the wall, and there's no hole or cracks or any kind of damage that I can see. It opens its eyes, two glowing deep, vivid red pools, and it stares.

Then, almost before I have time to recognize what I'm seeing, it changes again, getting detail and color. It's no longer just a black mass in the form of a head and shoulders. Now it's an  _ actual _ head and shoulders. It's a  _ person _ . Part of a person is sticking out of the wall in front of me...

...and it isn't just any person, either. It's Dark.

I can't believe I'm seeing this because this shouldn't be possible and yet he's right there in front of me just his head and shoulders and his eyes are glowing and the wall is solid  _ the wall is still solid  _ and where's my knife where's my  _ knife _ it's not much but oh Goddesses help me it's all I've got and the only thing I can defend myself with and I scramble on the floor trying to pull myself up or at least push myself away from the wall and --

"Here I am," Dark says after what feels like forever. His voice is quiet, but it echoes in my ears.

My limbs go rigid. My thoughts  _ stop _ . I scream.

He lunges out of the wall, the rest of him barely solid inky black and wispy gray, lands sprawled on top of me, and clamps his left hand over my mouth. I try to pull away, but he's pinning me to the floor!

I can't stop screaming. I shove at him, but he's not moving; he's stronger than me, isn't he? I can't get out of his grip, and I can't get his hand away from my mouth. No one can hear me with his hand muffling my voice. No one knows anything is happening in here...

My hand finds my knife and I raise it, but I don't know what I'm going to do with it. I should stab him but he isn't attacking me but I need to defend myself but  _ he's not attacking me _ . My knife hand is shaking. Then there's a hand on my wrist. It's firm but not tight and he's trying to disarm me! Wait, no, he isn't, but why else would he be holding my wrist?

I keep screaming into his hand until my head gets light and my vision goes fuzzy and my lungs demand air, and then and only then do I stop. My body feels so heavy now...

" _ Finally _ . Damn, you've got good breath control. Now, are you done screaming?"

I don't know. Maybe? How am I supposed to answer that?

"I'm going to move my hand, all right? Try not to scream." He slowly pulls his hand away from my face. I don't scream; I'm too busy gasping for breath to make much noise at all.

Dark shifts position and sits down next to me on the floor, holding his hand up where I can see it. It's easier to breathe without his weight on me. "Okay, this is good. Lay there and breathe, and let go of your knife, okay? You've already gotten me with it once tonight."

Do I still have my knife? Yes, I do. I'm still holding my knife, and he's still holding my wrist...

"Come on, Link, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you, so you can put the knife down. Really."

I don't know if I can believe him or not, but the knife's so  _ heavy  _ and I'm just so  _ tired _ . I lower my knife to the floor beside me.

"There we go." He releases my wrist and holds up both hands, fingers splayed. "See? No weapons. I didn't come here to attack you. So don't stab me. You already got me once tonight, remember?"

I did? Right, I  _ did _ . He still has the narrow cut on his right cheek. I sigh and set my knife on the carpet beside me.

"There we go. Okay. I admit to messing with you, but I wasn't trying to scare you half to death, I swear."

"You -- You just came out of a wall." My voice is weak and shaky.

"I wasn't in the wall, Link. I was in your shadow on the wall."

The wall, my shadow, does it really  _ matter _ ? "People can't do that."

"Yeah, well, I'm not  _ people _ ." He looks completely solid now, completely  _ normal _ . His eyes are red like always, but they're not glowing anymore. He looks just like he did at the tavern the other day. Just like he did at the public graveyard this afternoon.

But I know what I just saw, and I know what his eyes looked like earlier. "You're not human."

He nods. "You're right. I'm not."

"You're a  _ monster _ ."

He scowls. "No, I'm  _ not _ ."

"What else could you be? This black  _ mass _ came out of the wall, and then it was you! Your eyes glow! You have slit pupils! You can see things I can't. You can see in the dark. You're completely at home in a crumbling old graveyard. You're something evil, aren't you?!"

He moves, bracing himself with his arms so he can lean in close. "Link, is the night evil?"

"Wh -- what kind of question is that?" What does that have to do with  _ anything? _

He narrows his eyes slightly. "That kind that Link needs to answer." Then he moves back again, leaning against the nightstand. "If you need a few minutes to remember how to think, that's fine. I can wait."

It's just as well he can wait, because right now, I don't understand the question.

Someone knocks on the door. Dark waves a hand at me as he stands up. "I've got this. You just calm down."

The bed is between me and the door, so I can't really see what's going on. Dark opens the door, I hear him talking to someone, and I hear noises I don't immediately recognize. The door closes, opens, and closes again.

I don't hear anything else. I climb up to my feet and sit on the bed, setting my knife on the nightstand so I don't step on it by accident.

There's a pizza box on the table. Where did it come from? Is it even what it looks like? Only one way to find out. I sigh and open the box. It's a pizza, the same kind I usually order. A perfectly normal, still hot pizza that's missing a slice.

The door opens; Dark walks in with a small bin of ice and a couple of bottles of soda. "Oh, hey, you look better."

"What are you doing?"

"I was getting ice." He rattles the bin at me. "I figured you'd want something cold to drink with your food."

"You ordered it?" He must have. I know I didn't, and pizzas don't just  _ appear  _ no matter how much I sometimes wish they would. "When? How?"

"I used the telephone while you were in the shower." He sets the bin and bottles on the dresser and pours himself a glass.

Wait, he's been here that long and he can  _ hide in walls?  _ "You were watching me!"

"Hey. I wasn't watching you shower, if that's what you're implying. I figured you wanted some privacy."

"Why are you here?"

"You wanted an explanation, and I wanted to make sure you took care of yourself after tonight. You didn't seem very interested in getting food, so I got you food."

I don't understand. "Why do you care if I eat?"

Dark sighs. "We're not getting anywhere. I'm going to grab a shower. Maybe you'll be able to think better once you get some food in you." He grabs another slice and heads into the bathroom.

I run a hand through my damp hair and then massage my aching temples. I should call security or the city guard or... No, I still want an explanation. One of these days, my curiosity is going to get me in trouble.

I turn on the television purely for noise. I need something to distract my thoughts while I eat, or I'm just going to replay what happened or fixate on the sound of the shower.

This will make more sense once Dark explains himself. This can't really make any  _ less _ . I keep my knife close, just in case. I'm not sure what he is or if he's even still in that shower. I don't know what he wants with me. I know he can be hurt. I'd be a  _ fool  _ to not have a way to defend myself.

What was that question he asked me? 'Is the night evil?'

How  _ can _ the night be evil? It's the night, defined as being the time of day when the sun is below the horizon. It's not a being capable of thought, and doesn't the concept of  _ evil _ require some sense of morality? The night just  _ is _ .

At least I can eat while I think.

Really, it's no different than asking if a storm is evil. A storm can cause a lot of damage, and that might  _ seem _ like an evil act to us, but the storm doesn't knock trees over because it hates the trees or wants to inconvenience someone. It knocks down trees because the wind is strong enough to knock down trees. That's not  _ evil _ .

Maybe I'm overthinking this. No, I'm  _ sure  _ I'm overthinking this. I'm not thinking about this anymore. 

I finish eating and refill my glass, and then I flop onto the end of the bed. I know it's late -- it's well after one, now -- but maybe there's something decent on television. The only options I find are a monster movie and a rerun of the evening news. The monster movie would normally be tempting, but I've seen enough monsters for now.

News it is, then. It's not very interesting, something about expanding the city docks to allow more boat traffic, but it's noise. Then there's a brief weather report. Tomorrow will be clear and sunny here in Mido Town. I don't remember much of the forecast for Northcastle, and the report isn't saying. I  _ do _ remember something about rain. Hopefully the drive home won't be too rough.

"You're not asleep already, are you?"

"No, I'm not -- Do you have something against  _ pants _ ?" He's naked. He's completely  _ naked _ except for the towel he's using to dry his hair.

"What? I don't have a damned thing you don't." He doesn't even so much as glance at me. He just keeps drying his hair.

He's really muscular; he's  _ definitely _ stronger than I am. And I'm staring. Why am I staring? I jerk my head away and stare at the television, even though I'm not paying attention to it. He just walks out naked? Is he that comfortable with himself? Why is he so willing to be naked in front of me?

I can't stop glancing at him. Why do I keep looking at him? There's something on his left hip, something small and dark... I really shouldn't look, but I'm curious.

It's a tattoo. It's a little Triforce; the Triforce of Courage is larger than the other two.

I can't really be seeing this, can I? No, it's just not possible. I know what I'm seeing, but... How? How can he have the same tattoo in the same place? The only difference is that his is black and mine is gold, but... Same size, same placement, even the same emphasis on the Triforce of Courage...

It shouldn't be possible. Why is it there?  _ How _ is it there?

I fall onto my back on the bed and put my hands over my face. It's my tattoo. My personal, hardly anyone knows it's even there tattoo. There are several reasons it's on my  _ hip _ and not on my shoulder or somewhere else more visible. And there's a  _ reason _ the Triforce of Courage is larger than the other two. He can't have the same reasons, can he?

I feel him sit on the bed next to me. "So. Do you have an answer for my question?"

"What question?"

He chuckles. "You know which question. Is the night evil?"

"Why are you even asking me that?"

"Is the night evil?"

I sigh. He's not going to stop asking until he gets an answer, is he? "No, the night is not evil."

"Is the dark evil?"

"What?"

"Darkness. Is it evil?"

"No." That's not really different from the night, is it? "Why are you asking me this?"

"Because I'm not evil, either. I'm just a shadow."

What? I move my hands so I can look at him; he's staring at me with those deep red eyes like he's looking for something. A shadow? Does that...? I glance at my shadow on the wall. Mine looks perfectly normal, but his is faint, like it's being cast by something thin and wispy. That's not a person's shadow, but he looks like a person.

I reach up and poke his shoulder. He feels like a normal person, warm and fleshy and solid. He has enough weight to pin me to the floor.

"Shadows don't cast proper shadows, Link."

"Shadows don't have substance, either!" I snap.

"I do," he says softly, smirking, leaning in until his nose is practically touching mine.

I move away, sliding off of the bed and onto my feet. "All right, then, what makes you such a special shadow?"

He laughs and stands; he has his towel wrapped around his waist now, not that it really covers him that much. "Well, you see, I'm not just  _ any  _ old shadow. I just so happen to be the Chosen Hero's shadow."

"You're... You're  _ what? _ " Is that why he has things like the bracelet and the Lens? "That's..."

"Still skeptical? I guess it's to be expected. But that's how I know so much about Hyrule's Hero. I've spent a  _ lot  _ of time with him. Lifetimes, even. And I've got a good memory, too." He's still smirking. "Do you want proof? Fine, then, ask me something only an ancient person would know."

"If it's something only an ancient person would know, then how am  _ I _ supposed to know if it's correct or not?" I can't just quiz him on history. The legends of the hero, maybe, especially if he claims to have spent so much time with the hero...

"Yeah, well, I guess you've got a point there."

_ Or _ I could remember the obvious. I know several older languages, languages that only a few of us learn for our work, languages he should presumably be familiar with if he really did live back then. He's probably forgotten a lot of it from lack of use, but he should at least be able to recognize them, right?

I pick the oldest language I'm comfortable speaking aloud, an ancient form of Hyrulean, and clear my throat. It takes me a moment to assemble the sentence in my head, but then I speak as clearly as I can. "I could always find some obscure legend to ask you about, but I don't know which ones existed when you claim to live."

He cringes. " _ Thrice _ , that just sounds awkward."

I cross my arms and frown. "I just pulled it out of my head. It's going to be a little awkward."

"No, no, that's not what I mean. Sure, you sound overly formal, but that's not necessarily a  _ problem _ . Shorten your vowels; you should be talking at least twice as fast. More like this: 'I could always find some obscure legend to ask you about'." Then he grins at me. "It's been forever since I heard anyone talk like that."

At least I think that's what he just said. He definitely says it faster than I just did, and when he says it, the words seem to flow together, almost more like a song than normal speech.

Okay, I'm convinced that he's familiar with at least one older form of Hyrulean. That's a definite start. "I know several languages that no one uses anymore. I learned them for my work."

"So I see." He sounds impressed. "You must be pretty committed to this history thing, then." Then he snickers.

"What's so funny?"

"You being so obsessed with history."

"I don't see why that's so funny."

"Yeah, well, you're apparently good at missing what's right in front of your nose."

I scowl. "Which is what?"

He grins broadly, cupping my chin in one hand and turning my head to the side. "You tell me."

I pull away from him. "What are you doing?"

"I'm  _ trying _ to get you to look in the mirror."

"You could have just told me to!"

"Tch, it's more fun my way. Or it would be if you weren't so damned jumpy."

"Considering what I've been through tonight, I think I'm being reasonable." Of course I'm jumpy. Things have been trying to scare or attack me all evening, and then he just reaches out and grabs me like that... How does he expect me to react?

"Mirror."

I glare at him and then turn my attention to the mirror. What am I supposed to be looking at? I frown at my reflection. My hair needs combing, and I'm clearly tired. Dark's still grinning, showing part of his teeth. He  _ does _ have fangs. They aren't huge, but they're there just the same, a little too long and a little too sharp. 

I'm not sure if it's his grin or his fangs or both, but something has me on edge.

"What am I supposed to be seeing?" I'm beginning to feel like an idiot. He claimed it's right in front of my nose, but I'm not seeing whatever it is.

He sighs. "Oh, fine. I'll give you a hint." He frowns, mimicking my expression. He's really good at it; he's matching me perfectly. Wait,  _ perfectly? _

I leap back like I've been burned when it strikes me: he's mimicking me so well because he looks like me.  _ We have the same face _ . 

"Why do you look like me?!" He's like my darker twin. This shouldn't be possible!

He laughs triumphantly. "You finally noticed! And isn't it obvious, Link?" He leans in again. "I look like you because I'm your shadow."

But didn't he say...? "You said you're the hero's shadow."

"I am."

"Then how can you be mine?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

The only way that could be possible is if he's the shadow of two people... or if the hero and I are somehow one and the same. Does that mean that I'm...? No, that can't be. I study the legends, yes, but I'm no hero. There's no way I can be a hero! I'm not brave or strong or --

"I'm not a hero," I say.

"No, you're not yet. But you have been before, and you've got that spark in you now." He shakes his head. "Okay, that sounded less stupid in my head."

"That's not... Hyrule has had several heroes over the years!"

"Not exactly." He puts his hand on my shoulder. "Look, there's a part of you that never,  _ ever _ changes, no matter what. That part is what makes the rest of you a hero. All you have to do is listen to it."

I shake off his hand. "But I'm not a hero. I study myths; I don't make them!" I'm the legendary hero reincarnated and he's my shadow? This sounds... I don't even know  _ how _ this sounds. Part of me wants to say that this can't be right. 

And yet, part of me believes him. He's a shadow. He's  _ my  _ shadow. I groan and start rubbing my temples. My head throbs now. "Can you prove it?"

"Din, Nayru, and Farore, you and your  _ proof _ ." He groans and throws his hands up. "Fine, I'll find a way to prove this to you once and for all."

I shake my head. No, my head can't take anything else. I'm still reeling from the graveyard. "I need sleep more than I need proof."

"Okay. You  _ do _ look pretty exhausted."

"It's been a long night, Dark." That's a massive understatement. But there's still something I need to deal with before I can sleep. "Do you have a room?"

"Didn't see the need for one."

"Then where are you going to sleep?"

"I figured we could share."

"What if I don't want you in my bed?"

"Oh, come now." He gives me another grin before walking over to the pizza box and flipping it open. "I'm your shadow. Are you really going to kick me out?"

Maybe I can go get another room for myself. Wait, no; that won't work. He got in here somehow. He'll be able to get into another one just as easily. I sigh. I need sleep.

If he  _ is _ my shadow, then wouldn't that imply he can't kill me? After all, a shadow only exists because something exists to  _ cast  _ it, so if I ceased to exist... Farore, this got morbid fast.

I shake my head and flop onto the bed. I should care about this more, but I'll deal with it tomorrow. It's  _ late _ , and I need  _ sleep _ . I turn off the light.

Oh, right. The television's still on. "Are you going to be up for a while?"

"Nah. I was just finishing up the pizza." I hear him moving around, but I don't bother looking. Let him do what he wants.

After a moment, he flops onto the bed next to me. "Ah, it's good to be off my feet."

"You could've been --" He's naked again. "Don't you want  _ pants? _ "

"We've already established that I don't have a damned thing you don't."

"You're going to share a motel bed with me, and you're going to sleep  _ naked? _ "

"Oh,  _ please _ . I've done worse things on a motel bed than lay here naked."

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying really hard to not think about what those worse things could be. "I really didn't need to know that."

"You're the one interested in all kinds of ancient secrets."

"Dark, I'm not sharing this bed with you unless you put something on."

"Like you're dressed? You're in a pair of boxer shorts."

He's right. I'm wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, and that's all I've had on this entire time. That would be more embarrassing if I wasn't so exhausted, but I can feel my face heating up anyway. "I'm not  _ naked! _ "

"Fine, I'll put something on." He climbs out of bed. I hear cloth rustle, and then he flops back down next to me. "Better?"

He's in boxers now, too. That's probably as good as it's going to get, and at least he's not naked anymore.

"It'll work."

He chuckles. "Good night, Link."

I sigh heavily and try to make myself comfortable. "Night, Dark."


	5. Chapter 4

It just keeps coming. How much abuse can this thing _take?_ I can't even tell if it's injured. I knock it to the ground, and it just ripples back up to its feet, narrows its glowing, burning red eyes, and laughs.

How am I supposed to conquer myself if I can't even hurt whatever this is?

It snarls and rushes me, lashing out with its sword. I twist out of the way, barely, and slam my shield into its face. It staggers back, and I step back myself, keeping my shield up. This thing is _relentless_.

And it's strong. Blocking its next swing knocks me down to my knees. My hand goes numb; the strap over my arm is the only thing holding my shield in place now, but I can't defend myself like this. I scramble away from the next slash, just barely managing to get out of the way.

I don't have any better options right now, so I slash at its legs and feel my sword meet resistance. It hisses -- a strange sounds that seems to come from in my head and across the room at the same time -- and jumps back, but it quickly recovers and moves towards me again.

I don't have time to get up on my feet, so I shift my weight and turn in place and get my legs under me and my shield between us. This isn't a good position, but I should be able to defend myself. I just hope it's enough.

The shadow-thing comes straight at me, attacking me head-on. I let its sword clash against my shield and then slash at its legs again. And the thing hisses and jumps back before once more rushing straight at me. Why does it keep coming straight towards me? It isn't trying to circle around behind me or to feint or to do _anything_ that might help it avoid my attacks.

I slash its legs. It leaps back, recovers, rushes me, tries to attack and strikes my still raised and ready shield. I slash its legs. Once, twice, thrice, over and over with absolutely no deviation.

Why is it so single-minded? The two of us are acting in a bizarre rhythm, but I think I'm the only one who recognizes it. Is it so blinded by its desire to kill me that it can't realize just how absurd this is?

Unless I'm misunderstanding the situation, I'm supposed to be fighting my shadow. Which means that this thing is presumably a reflection of me. Does this mean I'm this single-minded when I fight? No, I can't be -- I can recognize the rhythm and the pattern.

So why can't it? It just _isn't stopping_. It comes at me yet again, and again I slash at its legs.

This time, however, it _shrieks_ horribly, its voice echoing off the walls until my ears hurt, and it jumps back and seems to sink into the stone.

I hold my position, but nothing else happens. Once the echoes fade, the room is silent. Eerily silent.

Is it gone?

\---

I wake up sore and groggy, and I _am_ alone, right? This is... the motel room in Mido Town. That's disconcerting. That means that not all of that was a dream. I really did go to that graveyard, I really did hop the fence, I really did see those _things_...

No, it doesn't matter now. I made it out. I'm alive. I can sort things out at my leisure from here, because I'm in a motel room and I'm safe and I'm completely alone. There are no monsters here, no shadows, nothing but me.

And then I hear a snore right behind me, and I tense. Someone's in my room. I slowly turn towards the sound...

Dark. He's on his back, eyes closed, snoring.

Then _that_ part of last night happened, too. Dark is a shadow, _my_ shadow. It's _really_ weird watching him sleep, because it looks so familiar. There's just a little bit of sunlight filtering in through the curtain, and he's sprawled out on the bed with the sheets tangled around his legs... When we were roommates in college, Shad took a pictograph of me flat on my back, tangled in my sheets, fast asleep. Pictographic evidence that I snore, he said at the time.

Looking at Dark right now is like looking at that pictograph. It's so _eerie_.

Do I snore this loud? Does it just seem loud because the room is so quiet?

Wait, how in the world does a shadow snore? Do shadows even need to sleep? I know I've seen him eat more than once, and he's clearly sleeping. That doesn't make sense. He's a shadow. Why does he seem so human? I don't understand.

I shake my head. I should just leave. There's nothing keeping me here. I can just pack my bike, turn in my key, and head back to Northcastle. That's exactly what I should do.

I am _not_ awake enough for this. The room should have a coffeepot... Ah, there it is. I fumble with the coffeemaker for a few minutes and finally manage to get it ready and started. Maybe this will help. Maybe. It's worth a try.

While the coffee brews, I check my knee. Removing the bandage hurts, and it bleeds a little, but it looks like a scraped knee. I've had these before; it'll heal in a few days. I clean and redress the wound and take some medicine for the pain.

Once my knee is dealt with, I pull on an old T-shirt and my undamaged pair of jeans. Then I turn my attention to my hair; it's a mess from going to sleep without combing it, and it takes me a while to get all of the tangles out.

By the time I finish, the coffeemaker is almost done. The coffee smells nice and normal, like my apartment when Mikau gets up or the break room at work. I pour myself a cup and start adding cream and sugar. I hope there's enough here to make this palatable.

Fabric rustles and the bed creaks. Dark murmurs something in an older form of Hyrulean; all I catch is "coffee". He stumbles out of bed and over to the coffeepot. I watch him pour himself a cup and take a sip. His eyes don't seem to be glowing this morning, but they still seem a little brighter than they should be.

I don't want to focus on that now. "Do you want sugar?"

"Nah. Straight from the pot."

If he's sure... then that means more of it for me. I'm not sure there's enough cream and sugar to make my coffee the way I like it, but there's enough to make it decent.

That's another thing, I think as I start my coffee. Shouldn't my shadow like the same food I do? Am I just missing something?

Nope, not thinking about this. I'm thinking about coffee. Mmm, motel room coffee. I think it's even the same cheap kind Shad and I lived on for half of college. I'm still not much for coffee, but it should wake me up enough to drive.

"Ah, coffee," Dark says from next to me. "Feel better this morning?"

"A little." But only a little. "I think I just want to get home."

"Hm. I was kind of hoping we could go grab some lunch or something."

I like the idea of food, but... Do I want to spend any more time with him this weekend? "This is all pretty overwhelming, Dark."

"I know." He rubs my shoulder with one hand. "I'm not talking about throwing more things at you. I'm just talking about food."

I'm too exhausted to care about his hand. "I know you are, but things are happening faster than I can make sense of them. I need time to just sit and think."

"All right, then. I can accept that." He keeps rubbing my shoulder. "This _is_ happening pretty fast."

That's an understatement. "I'm going to have a lot of questions for you once I sort out my thoughts."

He grins. "Yeah, I can imagine. I'll do what I can to answer anything you throw at me."

I shake my head. "You sound sure of yourself. How do you even know what I'm going to ask you?"

"Eh, let's just say I've had practice."

"There's one thing we need to agree on before I leave. If you expect me to believe your claims, especially your claim that I'm the hero reincarnated, then I need proof. _Hard_ proof."

"Tch, didn't I say last night that I'll prove this to you once and for all? Trust me, I know what I need to do. When do you want it?"

No, I'm not arranging anything right now, except maybe to talk to Vael. Talking to Vael is _normal_. "I don't know. I need _time_ , Dark."

"Fine. Gives me time to go do what I need to do anyway." He finishes his coffee and tosses the cup in the trash. "Do you need help loading your bike?"

"I'll be fine."

"Have it your way."

I load my bike; Dark gets dressed and turns the key in for me. I see him get on his bike and start down the highway, but how am I supposed to know he isn't following me? What if he's been following me around in the shadows since I met him? Or even before?

The drive back to Northcastle feels longer than it should. Dark came out of a wall last night. He says he's a shadow. Is it possible? I know there are legends and old campfire tales of all kinds of spirits and restless dead, but a _shadow_? None of the legends or stories I'm aware of involve anything like this.

I _really_ need to talk to Vael. Vael doesn't claim that he's a shadow or that I'm a legendary reincarnated hero. He's also the best mage I know by far, and maybe he can help me make sense of this. There has to be another explanation for what I saw at the motel, right?

Dark doesn't seem to be following me when I reach Northcastle, but he didn't seem to be following me last night, either. _But_ last night I was tired and drained and out of it because of the Stalfos and the Moas and the floating lanterns and -- I don't know what to think about this.

I find a payphone at a fuel station and call Vael. I hope he's at home; I don't remember if he mentioned any plans for this weekend or not. I count the rings: one, two, three, four.

"Vael Ziota speaking."

I breathe a quiet sigh of relief. "Hi, Vael. It's Link. Are you doing anything this afternoon?"

"Nothing particularly important. Why do you ask?"

"I, uh..." How should I put this? "I have a couple of questions about magic, so I thought I'd ask you."

"I see. I take it that these questions are the sort that you'd prefer to ask me face-to-face instead of merely over the telephone?"

I sigh. "I could ask them over the telephone, if you're busy, but..." I shift position in the booth and look out towards the parking lot. "Honestly, I'd feel better if we could just sit and talk for a while. Only if you're not busy, though; I don't want to get in your way." I just want to see him because it should make me feel better. He's not like Dark; he's _normal._

It takes him a moment to answer. "I'd rather not have to leave my apartment since I'm in the middle of cleaning, but you're welcome to come over here if you'd like. You won't be in my way."

"Thanks, Vael. Sorry for the short notice."

"Think nothing of it, Link."

\---

I barely have the chance to get inside Vael's apartment before he closes the door behind me and states "Something happened to you."

Is it that obvious? It probably is.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm doing better now." I strip off my riding gear and set it by his door.

Vael watches me. "You seem stiff. You didn't go and get yourself hurt, did you?"

"No," I lie. Well, it's really not that much of a lie; a skinned knee isn't really that much of an injury. Most of the stiffness is just from the ride and not enough sleep. "I'm all right."

He makes a soft, noncommittal sound. "So I see. Make yourself comfortable, then." With that, he ducks into his kitchen.

I slide my boots off and leave those by the door as well before walking over to his simple yet surprisingly comfortable couch and sitting down. Sitting is good. Vael walks back out with a glass in each hand; he hands me one.

"You must be thirsty," he says.

"Oh, um, thanks." Lemonade. And he's right; I _am_ pretty thirsty.

He sits down in his chair. "You mentioned questions about magic. I take it that the something that happened to you and these questions you have about magic are connected."

"They are." I could lie, but if he's figured out this much, then I might as well just admit it. Vael isn't an idiot. That said, I don't know how much I really want to try and explain.

He seems to recognize that. "You don't want to talk about it."

"Honestly, Vael, I don't even know how much of it I can believe."

"Very well, then. What are these questions of yours? Perhaps answers will help you decide what to believe."

"I... um..." Now that I have him right here and can ask him anything I want, I can't really find the words. I had some flimsy excuse during the ride, some throwaway justification for my question earlier, one that _didn't_ make me sound like I've lost my mind, but I can't remember it now. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because I know Vael's going to see right through it -- and having him watching me isn't helping.

"I can't answer a question I haven't heard," he says, setting his glass down on the little side table.

I know. I close my eyes and just _talk_. "I know this doesn't make sense, but just hear me out. I don't really know how to explain what I saw, and I _really_ don't know how to ask this, but... Can magic make a person pass through something solid? Or would there have to be some kind of illusionary magic that looks like a wall, or a real wall but not an actual person or something like that?"

Vael doesn't respond. I slowly open one eye and find him staring at me with one eyebrow raised.

"If I understand you," he finally says, "you just asked me if it is possible to walk through a wall."

I lean back against the couch. "Basically, yes."

"I would ask if this is from one of your movies or some legend, but neither of those would have you so clearly shaken. What did you _see_ , Link?"

Can I really tell him what I saw? He'd never believe me, would he? "I just... I just need to know if it's possible. Just curious."

"Ah, yes. Just curious," he repeats, reaching up to slide his glasses back into place. "To answer your question, it _is_ possible to pass through something solid, theoretically, though it involves using magic to turn oneself incorporeal and is massively taxing on one's skills, one's focus, and one's magic. Thus, it is an incredibly risky thing. Should anything go even the slightest little bit wrong, then the mage's body would revert back to its normal, corporeal state. I doubt I need to elaborate how much damage that could do to a person who is passing through a solid wall at the time."

No, he doesn't; I cringe. In that situation, the mage would be trapped half in, half out of a wall. "That sounds like a teleportation accident."

"Worse, actually. A teleporting mage can aim for just above the surface of the ground or floor. An incorporeal mage is going to have enough difficulty staying level with the ground. A form that can pass through a wall can just as easily pass through the _floor,_ so even if the mage should clear the wall, trying to return to corporeal form is... _risky._ "

"Is there even a way to do that without hurting yourself?" It doesn't really sound like it.

"To be honest, none that I'm aware of." Vael takes a sip of his lemonade. "This is one of those concepts that I've only ever heard discussed in high-level magical theory. Solid things simply don't like to become less solid without sustaining damage."

That definitely can't be it, then. Dark turned solid fast, and it seemed like parts of him turned solid before other parts...

"Alternately," he says with a small wave of one hand, "the mage could simply teleport from one side of the wall to the other. Obviously, it runs the risk of teleporting into furniture or some other obstacle, but nonetheless it is much, _much_ more efficient. Though I don't believe teleporting would give the illusion of walking through a wall... In that vein, have you ruled out illusions or other tricks of the senses?"

I _know_ what I _saw_. I understand why he's asking me that, but it still grates. "The legends are _full_ of tales of the hero thwarting this illusion or that illusion. _Yes_ , I ruled out an illusion. The wall was solid. So was what I saw walk through it. Either none of it was an illusion, or something was _really_ messing with my senses. That's why I said I don't know what to believe."

I toy with my glass for a moment. "I don't know, Vael. Maybe it was all just a really vivid dream." I know that's not the case, but... what if it is? I don't have a better answer.

Farore, does this mean I can't even trust my own senses?

"I think you need to try to rest. I don't know what happened to you, but rest may help. Are there any other questions you need answered?"

What about hiding in a shadow? No, that sounds even more bizarre than walking through a wall, I think. "There is, but..."

"Yes?"

"It's possible to magically enhance your vision, right?"

Vael gives me another skeptical look. "Enhance in what way?"

"To see in the dark."

He chuckles. "Ah. That is certainly possible, though it's easier to conjure a light. A small light requires less magic to sustain, so it lasts considerably longer. But yes, it's possible to see in the dark with the right magic."

"That makes sense. Thanks." That's true; it didn't take that long for the Lens of Truth to burn all of my magic. Granted, the Lens helped me see invisible things, which isn't _quite_ the same as seeing in the dark. Still, if Dark were using some device of his own, he'd have a lot more magic than I do, and he just doesn't strike me as that much of a mage. I'm not sure why I feel that way, now that I think about it.

"Anything else?"

"What about, um, hiding in a shadow?"

"If it isn't an illusion that makes false shadows to obscure what's really there, then it has the same problem as the 'passing through a wall' thing. Solid things _really_ don't want to become less solid than they are."

Then how did Dark do that? I _know_ I saw him as that shadowy, wispy mass... right? Or did he do something to twist my senses around? I should have sensed that much magic, shouldn't I? I don't even know anymore. "What if it was the other way around? Suppose instead of making something solid incorporeal, we were trying to make something incorporeal _solid?_ "

"Theoretically, yes, it is possible. It, however, has the same requirements for incredible skill and focus and magical reserves. I also feel the need to mention that most things that are incorporeal _already_ are under the effect of magic in some way or another. Layering effects can be dangerous in and of itself."

Things that are already incorporeal... wait. "Ghosts don't fall through floors. Or at least I've never heard of one that did." That would make ghosts a lot less creepy. I think. I've never seen a ghost. A few ghost-lights, sure, and that lantern from the graveyard, whatever it was, but never an actual ghost.

Vael shakes his head. "Ghosts don't _walk_. Spirits _float_."

"Oh." That makes sense. Dark didn't float, though. I _know_ he was walking because I heard his footsteps. There has to be something I'm missing, some detail that would explain all of this if I only knew what it was...

There's something else I need to know. "If someone _did_ trick my senses, would there be any lasting effects? I mean, would you be able to sense it if it happened?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Doubtful. I can sense that you've been around magic in some form, though at this point, I can't say if you've been near something magical or if you've been using magic yourself. If I had been there when it happened... possibly. Though I would think you would've sensed the magic targeting you, even if you couldn't recognize what kind it was. Did you sense anything?"

"No. But I was exhausted, so maybe I just missed it." I was kind of out of it, but I didn't think it was that bad. Or was it?

"Unlikely. I'm familiar with your magic sense, Link; yours is better than most. I find it hard to believe you could be targeted by magic and not notice it at all." He takes another drink. "Do you have any other questions?"

"None that you can answer, no. Thanks for the help."

"Think nothing of it. I have a question for you in return."

"Okay."

"I know you don't seem willing to tell me what happened, but does it involve your mysterious stranger?"

I nearly choke. "Wh-what makes you think that?"

He gives me a flat look. "You've been acting a bit strange ever since you met him. Something about him has you perpetually distracted. Are you afraid he's going to do something to harm you?"

"No! I just..." I cringe. How am I even supposed to answer that? "I'm just a little overwhelmed by some of the things he claims. I don't know how truthful he's being, and some of it is just... _weird_." Farore, what an understatement.

"What are some of these claims? You asked me how old that bracelet was."

"He says the bracelet used to belong to the hero of legend."

"Hm. It's certainly old enough. Did you ever determine what it does?"

Should I tell him? I really should tell him _something,_ shouldn't I? I'd rather talk about the bracelet than the graveyard anyway. "It makes its wearer stronger."

"I see. Do you still have it?"

"Yeah, I do. As well as something he called the Lens of Truth." I take a deep breath and look away, staring over at the books stacked on the desk on the other side of the room. "Speaking of which, I have another question. Is it possible for something to be permanently invisible?"

"I'd like to see them both, if you'll allow it. Of course something can be permanently invisible. It seems counterproductive, and it requires a lot of skill and magic just as any other form of magic, but it's certainly _possible_."

"What about an animal or a monster? Could it be permanently invisible?" I can't look at him; he probably thinks I've lost it now.

He doesn't answer for several long moments. And then he sighs heavily. When I turn towards him, he has his glasses off and is pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Is it that dumb of a question?" I ask.

"No, it isn't. It's actually a good question. I need a moment to work the answer out, that is all."

Is it really? I don't think it is, but if he says so... And if he needs a moment, then I can give him one. He wants to see the bracelet and the Lens, so I'll go get them. "I'll be right back, okay? I'm going to go get them for you."

"Ah, thank you."

It doesn't take long at all to go downstairs and grab both bracelet and Lens from Epona's saddlebag. I hold them up when I walk back inside his apartment. "Where should I put these?"

"My desk is fine." Vael has his glasses back on, and he looks calmer now.

Works for me. I set them next to the stack of books and kick my boots off again.

He takes a deep breath. "According to all of the magical theory I've studied or even merely heard in passing, it should not be possible for a permanently invisible creature to exist. A mage could turn something invisible for a time, but that is all that is theoretically possible. From my experience, practically every mage in Hyrule seems to take magical theory as magical fact. If it isn't theoretically possible, then there is no need to test it, because it simply cannot happen. However..."

He looks over at me as I sit down. "I am not 'practically every mage', Link. I have seen things that others would dismiss or deny. There are creatures for whom powerful magical effects are as natural as breathing is for us. There are creatures who have magic woven into every single fiber of their being. There are creatures who exist despite the best of magical theory stating that they cannot.

"Yes, it is entirely possible for a magical creature to be permanently invisible."

I knew it! Then I did see what I think I saw. But wait... If there are creatures that violate magical theory, then doesn't that mean that it _is_ possible that Dark really _did_ come out of a wall?! "But then that means that --"

"It means that assuming you saw a human walk through a wall, my previous points stand. If what you saw walk through the wall was instead some kind of magical being, then it's entirely possible it really happened. An illusion or trick of the senses is still a valid option; I feel I need to remind you of that."

I know it's an option, but I also know what I _saw._ Does this mean Dark is some kind of magical being? He _did_ say he's a shadow, so... maybe that's it. I sink into the couch in relief. Maybe I'm really _not_ losing my mind.

Maybe Dark really is my shadow... though I don't know what to think or how to feel about the 'shadow of the hero' part. I can't be a hero. I'm just a historian. Considering how much _this_ has me shaken up, how could I possibly fight monsters? I'm nowhere near that brave.

Something buzzes in another room. Vael stands up. "That was the dryer. I need to tend to that. Try to relax, Link."

I nod at him. I can relax a little, but only a little. I've heard stories of creatures that look like people's shadows, creatures that lurk in dark places and attack the living... but those are just scary stories, right? The legends mention the hero facing himself more than once, but they're vague about the details. Dark may look like me, but... No, it can't be that simple. Wouldn't the legends mention the hero's darker twin? That seems like a pretty important detail, personally.

A shadow who can pass as a human... I've heard plenty of stories and seen lots of movies where some kind of monster or another disguises itself as a human being and causes havoc. I'm also familiar with lots of tales of humans turning into monsters. But even just with the little bit of time I've spent around Dark, he seems too human to be a monster.

If he's my shadow, then... No, I'm thinking too much about this. _Way_ too much about this. I sigh heavily and fall onto my side on the couch.

 _Squeak_.

What is that? I shift and reach under me; my hand finds something soft and round. I roll onto my back and hold it up for a good look.

Oh, it's Vael's weird little monster doll. I must have been sitting next to it this whole time and didn't notice it until now. It has a round purple body roughly the size of my fist with purple and lavender Keese wings and little clawed feet. It doesn't have a face, just a single large, red eye with copper liner and lashes. It's kind of cute in a weird way.

I don't know what it's supposed to be. I've never seen anything like it before, nor do I know why Vael has a cute little monster doll in his apartment. It's always in a different spot, too, like he moves it around. One of these days I should ask him about that, but I don't know how to bring it up.

"Hello, little guy," I say softly. I know Vael's in another room, but I still don't want him to hear me talking to his doll. "What are you doing on the couch?" I poke its side; it squeaks again.

Of course, looking at it here and now, I remember the Moas from the graveyard. The doll looks almost like a cross between a Moa and a Keese except, well, not nearly so threatening.

I let the doll fall onto my chest and stare up at the ceiling. I feel a little better now. Part of it is having some answers, and part of it is just laying here on Vael's couch. Vael's apartment always smells so nice, like plants and herbs and fresh air. But then of course it does; he has planters in all of the windows.

The little doll smells good, too. Does Vael smell like this? He probably does.

Okay, why am I even thinking about this? I close my eyes. It's not like he's going to let me smell his hair. How would I even ask that without sounding like a total idiot? Who asks to smell someone else's hair, even if his hair looks so soft and --

No, no, _no!_ I'm not going to think about this now. I'm laying on Vael's couch wondering what his hair smells like... What does this say about me?

Am I that desperate for a distraction? I really should be more worried about what following Dark into a fenced-off graveyard full of invisible monsters, Stalfos, and who-knows-what-else says about me, shouldn't I? Or maybe about the fact that I'm so convinced I can trust Dark? Am I just that desperate for proof that the heroes of legend are real that I'm willing to go along with all of this?

I should be more worried about what it means that my shadow is walking around and talking and acting like he's his own person, and if he's a shadow, shouldn't he just be some reflection of me?

"I said to try and relax, Link. You don't seem to be relaxing."

"I'm trying. I've just got a lot on my mind."

Vael sighs. "Yes, but is dwelling on it doing you any good?"

"I don't know what else to do." I need to talk to Dark, but I need to get away from Dark so I can make things make sense, but things don't completely make sense even with Vael's answers. There are more things that need to be proven now, and there are several things that I wish I could just chalk up as hallucinations even though I'm certain that they're not.

I feel a hand on my forehead and open my eyes. Vael leans in over me. Some of his hair falls over his shoulder to hang between us; it's so close I could reach up and touch it.

"You aren't feverish, for whatever that's worth."

"I'm not sick, Vael. It's just stress."

He brushes some of my hair away from my face as he removes his hand. "I felt the need to check. I assume you haven't been sleeping well lately."

"No, I haven't." And I'm probably not going to sleep very well tonight, either. Either my thoughts race so I can't sleep or I have weird dreams.

"Perhaps you should take some time off and rest for a few days. Time to process, if you will."

It's a tempting idea, but... "I've got a lot to do."

"Link, you're a mess, and you have been for over a month, but it's clearly getting worse. This has some connection to your mysterious stranger, which is why I want you to introduce me to him whenever you get the chance. I think I'd like to meet him."

"Vael, I --"

"You're waiting for proof before you share the details with me; you've said this, yes. I understand that you're skeptical about telling me, but I have questions of my own for him once we meet. I'm well aware that this will take time to arrange, but I want to meet him at some point. Until then, I ask that you allow me to keep your bracelet and Lens for a few days. I'd like to examine them further."

I really don't know if introducing them is a good idea, but... no, Vael answered my questions, and he's going to look over Dark's evidence for me. "All right. I don't know when I'll be able to arrange it, but I'll do what I can."

"That's fair enough." He takes a drink of his lemonade and seems to consider something. "Now, precisely how long have you been having trouble sleeping? I may be able to help you with that. I have an herbal tea that helps me sleep. I can make you a cup, if you'd like."

Vael has trouble sleeping, too? He's never mentioned that before. "I can try it, I guess. It doesn't taste weird, does it?"

He chuckles. "Why is that always your first question whenever I mention tea?"

"Because some of your teas taste weird."

"So you say. Personally, I enjoy them. As I said, I can brew you some right now if you wish to try it. If it helps, I can send some home with you later... but if you do try it, I'd rather you not drive for a while."

Right, because it's supposed to help me sleep. "I'm not that tired."

"Ah, yes, of course not. You only appear ready to fall asleep on my couch."

"Your couch is comfy." There are worse places to sleep than his couch. It's not as nice as a bed, but right now, I really don't care.

"If you want a nap, that could be arranged. Do you want to try the tea, or should I simply let you sleep?"

A nap sounds really good, especially after the crappy sleep I got last night. And there's nothing wrong with crashing on a friend's couch for a little while, right? He's even offering! "I guess I'll try it."

"This won't take long." Vael walks into the kitchen; I can hear him doing something.

I look up at the ceiling again. What would Vael say if he knew what happened this weekend? If he knew what's behind the fence at the graveyard? If he knew Dark claims to be my shadow?

Dark looks like me. What do I do if Vael notices when I introduce the two of them? How am I supposed to explain _that?_ How am I even supposed to introduce them, anyway? I don't even know Dark's name! I can't tell Vael that, either; that's just one more reason to question my judgment about the entire situation.

I don't even know when I'm going to see him again; if we scheduled anything, I've forgotten it. He's going to pick some random time and place and just show up out of the blue, isn't he? He's a student, too, so he'll probably show up on campus. Great. Now I have to worry about that, too. I can always just say that I don't have time to talk. One way or another, I'll just have to deal with him whenever he happens to show.

Why does it feel like someone's watching me? I raise my head and look around, but Vael is still in the kitchen. I glance down at the doll still sitting on my chest. Yes, its cloth eye is aimed at me, but it's obviously not watching me.

I let my head fall. This is just paranoia talking, and I know it. I blame Dark.

"Are you asleep?"

"No, I'm still awake."

"Just felt I should check. Your tea is ready."

I toss the doll onto the couch beside me as I sit up. "Okay. Thanks, Vael. You didn't have to."

"Just trying to help, is all. Here. This should help."

I take the cup and look down at it. It's light-colored, almost golden. I sniff it, but I don't really recognize the smell. It's faintly floral.

"It's merely tea, Link. I put plenty of sugar in there."

I take a sip. It's... light. That's the only way I can think to describe it. Light and mellow and sweet, and it's actually pretty good. "Are you all right with me taking a nap? I wouldn't want to get in your way."

"You aren't in my way. If you need to rest, then rest. I worry about you sometimes, Link."

"Thanks. I appreciate it." He shouldn't have to do this. I need to take better care of myself. Normally I do.

Then again, normally I don't spend half the night in a graveyard full of monsters with only my own shadow for company. What is it about Dark that messes with me so much? Is it because he seems to know so much about the hero? Is it because he's my shadow? But how could that bother me before I knew about it?

Is that why I feel like I can trust him so much? Has some piece of me recognized that I'm talking to my shadow this whole time? But even if I can accept that he's my shadow, why? He claims he's a special shadow, but is he 'special' because he supposedly belongs to the hero or because he's able to appear human or because he's aware? Do other people have shadows like him?

And how alike are we? He looks like me, but at the same time, he doesn't look exactly like me. He has my tattoo, but he's more muscular. And he's taller. Not by much, just a little bit, but he's still taller somehow. It doesn't make sense.

I'm not getting anywhere. I feel like I've been thinking in circles this whole time.

I hear noises from somewhere. I think it's Vael in the kitchen, but I'm not entirely sure. It doesn't sound like anything in particular, just noise. Maybe I shouldn't have come over here. He says I'm not, but I still feel like I'm in his way.

I roll onto my side; the doll bumps against my chin as I move. It still smells nice. I think I'm going to pretend Vael smells like this until I learn otherwise.

"I'm finished in the bedroom if you'd rather sleep on my bed."

I have to be dreaming. He didn't actually say that, right? "Wh-what?"

"I said you can sleep on my bed if you'd prefer. I need to work out here, and I'm certain my bed is more comfortable than my sofa."

He's offering to let me sleep in his bed. My cheeks heat up. Me, sleep in his bed? "Uh, sure. As long as you're okay with it."

"I wouldn't offer unless I was."

"Okay. Um, thanks."

"Think nothing of it."

Vael's bedroom is... well, it's a bedroom. His bed is larger than mine, but the room still feels bigger than my own. It must be because he doesn't have a desk in here. Since he doesn't have a roommate, he can work in the privacy of his own living room. Must be nice.

The window and the door to the balcony are both partially open, letting a breeze into the room and making the curtains on both sway. This window doesn't have a planter on its sill; instead, a large, low bowl rests on a table beneath the window. The bowl is full of clover, a couple kinds of mushrooms, and what looks like a tiny little model house. Some of the clover is blooming, small puffy white flowers that sway in the breeze. It looks almost like a fairy garden.

There are more plants out on his balcony, siting in pots and planters on shelves along the railing and hanging in baskets from the ceiling. Vael really likes plants, doesn't he?

I flop onto his bed. Yes, his bed is better than his couch. It's better than my bed, too. I do have to wonder why it's so big; he and I could both sleep on this. I really shouldn't dwell on that, especially right now, but it's hard not to.

The pillow has that fresh out of the dryer kind of clean scent to it. Right; Vael's doing laundry today.

I make myself more comfortable. I can hear a windchime somewhere close. It sounds nice, soft little bells in the breeze...

\---

Link looks comfortable enough, eyes closed, gold-and-brown hair blanketing one of my pillows. Already asleep, hm? That didn't take very long. Perhaps I overdid it with the tea? Perhaps not. He seemed sleepy enough before I even mentioned tea.

This obviously has its flaws as a long-term solution, but for the moment, he seems relaxed. He can't very well think himself in circles while he's sleeping, now can he?

I wish he would tell me what it is he saw. Clearly, whatever it was scared him half out of his wits to leave him so shaken and out-of-sorts, but what was it? I'm certain it involved something stupid and potentially risky on his part, but there seems to be far more to it than that. Invisible creatures? Someone passing through a wall or hiding in a shadow? Where was he that this could happen to him? What if he had been injured or worse?

Who is your mysterious stranger from the desert? I wonder while I watch him sleep. I know there is something he has been trying to hide from everyone else, and that something is clearly eating at him. I understand it may be difficult to talk about, yet I also know this is _frustrating_.

I want to know who this stranger is. I want to know where he finds his magical equipment, and I want to know what part he had in whatever it is Link did last night among several other rather pointed questions. This makes no sense to me. I can't pin down exactly what is that gives me that impression, but I'm _certain_ Link is overlooking something.

I have the urge to slam someone against a wall. At this rate, it will be Link's mysterious stranger.

I walk over to the open sliding door and look out at the sky for a moment. It's cloudy, just as it has been all day, though now the sky to the northwest is dark. The breeze is damp and smells of rain.

Ah, then there's no need to feel guilty for brewing Link an extra-strong cup of tea. It's best he not drive home in the rain while exhausted, and perhaps the sound of rain will help him sleep.

I watch him sleep for a few more moments before making my way to my desk. The bracelet and what appears to be an oversized magnifying lens sit side by side. The Lens of Truth... With that name, I can assume its purpose must be in piercing illusions. If so, this explains how Link could see invisible monsters -- and he must have seen them, since he felt the need to ask me if they could exist.

I toy with the Lens. Now where was Link to see invisible creatures, hm? Somewhere out of the way, surely. I don't know how, but to the best of my knowledge, the parts of Hyrule where humans live have been cleared of most magical creatures, particularly the ones hidden from normal human sight. Perhaps in one of the restricted areas scattered here and there across the kingdom?

Perhaps, though what did he think he was doing in a restricted area? Yet another question to add to the list.

And where, precisely, did his stranger find _this?_ Its magic is _heavy_ , solid and stable as bedrock, and old. I don't even have to focus on it to recognize that. This Lens is ancient, far more so than the bracelet, as well as far more so than anything else I've examined. A tiny remnant of Link's magic remains in it, woven in with the Lens' own magics as if it belongs there.

Interesting and also fitting. Link's magic does have an odd sense of _age_ to it, as if his magic is somehow far, far older than the man who bears it. I have yet to determine how that can be, and this merely adds more questions than it answers. Why does his magic nest with the magics on the Lens? That seems nonsensical.

No matter; that can wait. I push a bit of magic at the Lens and nod in satisfaction as the Lens activates. I can feel the Lens' draw: a small yet constant drain on my magical reserves. This helps explain why Link seems so exhausted; I'm certain he left this running as long as he possibly could.

Does this device live up to its name? I peer through it at my reflection in a mirror and quickly deactivate it. Just as I expected; Link says it reveals the invisible, and I just confirmed that it pierces magical illusions. Fitting for its name, though I have to wonder just who named it. 'Lens of Truth' is such a simple, practical name, nothing like the irritating, overly-cute names my classmates and instructors from the Academy come up with on a regular basis.

I set the Lens back on my desk and pick up the bracelet. A bracelet that enhances strength... Such an odd choice. I still don't understand why, unless the point is to be incognito. Not that such a vivid colored bracelet would _be_ incognito, but its appearance should disguise its function, if nothing else. Even so, I would think it should be a bracer or a gauntlet or perhaps a glove, not a bracelet.

Ah, what does it matter? I wasn't the one to craft it, nor do I have any interest in using it. Link seems to have no qualms using it in its current form.

The bracelet is an impressive piece of craftsmanship, its multiple enchantments twined neatly together. It draws magic from the environment instead of its wearer, though even the magic that siphons energy towards it is curled in with the rest. Shame I can't speak with the person who created this; I'd like to know how they did this. Though... hm. Perhaps I could tease the secret from the bracelet itself given enough time.

Later. For now, I'd vastly prefer answers to my questions, but Link won't be awake for quite some time, and neither the Lens nor the bracelet are particularly forthcoming.

What is the meaning of this? What reason does this stranger have for doing any of this? What reason does Link have to _trust him?_

I take my glasses off and pinch the bridge of my nose. Answers. I need _answers,_ not _questions._ Yet questions are all I have. For all I know, Link is in danger, and I know next to nothing about it and --

The stack of books on my desk moves, tumbling sideways and sending the books crashing to the floor in a heap.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of my nose harder. This is getting me _nowhere!_ All I'm succeeding at is getting frustrated enough to lash out at whatever is unfortunate enough to be close -- which, in this case, happens to be a stack of books.

A stack of books that aren't all _mine_. Two of the books belong to the Academy library, and another one is from the University library.

I pick the books up one at a time, checking each for damage. More than one has bent pages and one of my old textbooks has a large scuff on its spine, but there doesn't seem to be any lasting damage to the libraries' books.

Link still seems to be asleep, as well. Not that I expected that to wake him, honestly; he's a heavy sleeper even when he _hasn't_ taken an extra-strong dose of sleeping tea. That seems to be the one thing that has gone right this afternoon.

I set the stack back in place on the desk. Enough of this. I need to find a question I _can_ answer, or, failing that, I need to find something else to occupy my time. Something mindless, preferably.

Television is mindless. That should suffice. I sit on the sofa and reach for the remote, scowling when I hear a squeak from underneath me. I pull the source out from beneath me and toss it onto the other side of the sofa, ignoring the indignant squeak I get in response.

There isn't much of interest on the television. I stop on one of the local news shows. This isn't particularly interesting either, but I may as well see how much of a storm is coming.

"...all other city parks, closes at sunset," the newswoman says in her usual perky yet business-like tone. "Despite this, residents report seeing unknown people walking into or out of the park at night. The city guard has also received multiple calls about residents hearing mysterious noises and voices coming from within the park over the last several months, as we reported last night. Today, the Northcastle City Guard announced that they will be assigning more patrols to the area starting this week.

"In a statement released to HWN4 News, the City Parks Commission says that it is taking the situation very seriously and is discussing plans to install metal gates at all park entrances. The Commission would like to remind all visitors that being on the grounds of any city park after hours is trespassing. Residents who see or hear anyone on the grounds after hours are asked to please report the sighting to the city guard for investigation.

"As of this evening, there are no suspects in this case. We will continue to follow this story as it develops. And next, the weather forecast. I think I heard thunder earlier. How bad does it look out there, Byron?"

The image changes to the weather forecaster in front of his large weather map. "Well, I can't say it's looking that good out there. It's going to be a stormy night here in Northcastle. The National Weather Survey has issued a flood advisory for most of the Northcastle area that will last through the night and into tomorrow, and we just received word of a new severe storm warning for the northwestern and western parts of the city until midnight tonight. This one is going to be a strong storm, with heavy winds and rains, as well as the potential for hail and plenty of lightning..."

The weather map is covered with advisory and warning boxes as well as rainfall estimates. In particular, the box for the severe storm warming is centered atop this part of the city. It's going to be much windier than I thought.

Where did Link park? I check the parking lot from the window. Ah, good; his motorcycle is in the parking spot assigned to my apartment. I'm aware that a covered parking spot can only do so much against wind-blown rain, but it's certainly better than no cover at all.

The weather map is still on-screen when I return to the sofa. Hm... How far can that motorcycle travel in half a day or so? I'm going to assume that it has about the same possible range as any other vehicle, so...

I scowl at the weather map. So he could reach effectively any point in Western Hyrule in about half a day or so. There are far too many possible locations to make that knowledge useful.

Yet if I can only determine where he's been, I could perhaps determine what he's _seen_. There must be a way -- his boots! I can learn where his feet have been, if nothing else.

It takes very little time to clear space on my desk for a piece of cloth, and then all I need to do is examine his boots and scrape some of the more interesting looking dirt onto the cloth for a better look. Most of the dirt seems to be the same kind of soil from this area, but only most. Where the laces and the leather meet, there are tiny gaps and crevices that hold sand. The front of both boots looks much more scuffed up than they did last time I saw them.

The most interesting detail is what I find wedged between the treads of the bottom of his right boot, however. It looks like nothing more than a small stone at first, but once I work it free and properly examine it, it's clear that it isn't a stone at all.

It's a tiny fragment of bone.

I sense faint magic, so faint it only barely exists. I wrap my hand tightly around it, but even with all of my focus, I have to press it against my solar plexus before I can sense enough of it to recognize.

Yes, I know this magic. Stalfos. Stalchild. Something dead that cannot rest. Though whatever this bone belongs to seems to be resting _now_ , I think with a wry grin.

Link has been somewhere where the dead don't rest. An old graveyard or crypt, perhaps? Certainly somewhere out-of-the-way and forgotten, no doubt off-limits to keep people safe. Some place old and dangerous... Now what business does Link have in such a place?

I scowl down at the tiny piece of bone. All I need to do is show this to Link and ask why he was around the restless dead, and yet I can't ask him. Link isn't a fool. Even if he doesn't realize it at first, eventually, he's going to wonder how I know that this is a Stalfos bone and not another kind of bone or even just a rock.

There isn't a neat answer to that question, only a long, complicated explanation that will only raise even _more_ questions and reveal far, far more than I'm comfortable revealing even to him.

I clench my fist around the fragment of bone and grit my teeth. None of this explains why he went to such a place or what he saw that has him so shaken! He didn't mention Stalfos! He mentioned someone or something walking through a wall!

The lamp on my desk shifts and rocks back and forth, knocked slightly off-balance. I glare at it as it wobbles. "I never asked _you,_ " I snap.

I set the fragment of bone gently on the cloth. I know why I'm frustrated. Link wants me to answer questions without proper context, and it's painfully obvious that there is something he wants to say but just can't make himself voice. I don't know who this stranger is or his motives, and I already know Link trusts him.

This would be easier if that bone wasn't magical. A piece of bone caught in a boot means nothing more than Link poking around in a place with bones. It could simply be him walking around in the woods or assisting his old professor at that graveyard near Kakariko City. There are multiple possibilities, and few of them are out of character for him.

Yet the bone _is_ magical, which narrows those possibilities _considerably._ I have no proof that he and the Stalfos were walking around at the same time, so I can't say if he fought it or fled from it or not. I _can_ say, however, that Link has been walking around the same place as at least one Stalfos -- and I recall Stalfos and Stalchildren both having the tendency to skulk about in _groups_.

Why won't Link mention this? Does he not trust me to believe him or to keep his confidence? I don't want to know all of his secrets, but there are limits to how helpful I can be without knowing the situation better than this.

I turn off the television and the lamp and walk into my bedroom. The clouds outside flash purple-white, though there are too many flashes and too much thunder to estimate how close the storm is. A cool breeze blows in from outside. Is this the first of the autumn rains, or is this merely a short respite from the summer heat? Either way, I'm leaving my windows open so I can enjoy this.

Link makes a soft noise in his sleep and rolls onto his stomach. I smile inwardly. No matter how strong the storm outside is, he's simply going to sleep straight through it, isn't he? Good. The rest should help his mood.

Hm. Perhaps I can find some means of encouraging him to share more details once he wakes. If I help him let off some of that pressure, perhaps he will be more willing to talk? If nothing else, I can sit on his legs and pin him down, refusing to move until he satisfies my curiosity...

I feel warm despite the breeze. This isn't the best thing to be focusing on right this moment. I scowl; what would be the best thing to focus on while watching him sleep?

I've had enough struggling with questions for one afternoon. Link should sleep for a few hours, and I'm rather drained myself now. I see no reason to sleep on my couch when there is plenty of room next to him on my bed.

I climb into bed next to Link and make myself comfortable. He makes another quiet noise that sounds vaguely like words as I do. Is he even aware enough to notice that I'm here? Highly doubtful. How flustered is he going to be once he notices me?

Perhaps if he's flustered, I can work some information out of him, or perhaps he'll blurt something out without thinking. This could be amusing one way or another. I chuckle to myself and let the sounds of the approaching storm lull me to sleep.

\---

Is that thunder?

I think it is. No, I know it is; a flash of white lights up the room, and the sky booms. It sounds like it's raining pretty hard out there. Good thing I made it home before -- no, wait. I'm not at my place. I'm at Vael's. I'm in his bed.

Why don't I hear him? It's not that he's loud, but I thought he was cleaning. But the only things I hear are the wind and rain and thunder outside. There's a dim light coming through the slightly-ajar door, but other than that and the lightning, it's dark in here. What's he doing?

My limbs are still heavy, and I'm still sleepy enough that I just can't make myself get out of bed. That's all right. I'm curious about Vael, but I'm not that curious. I shift a bit, rolling onto my side.

And I find myself face-to-face with a sleeping Vael.

This makes twice today I've woken up next to someone else. I think I like this one better; at least I know how I feel about Vael.

Vael's hair hangs in his face and falls all over his pillow. He's sleeping, so he won't notice if I touch his hair, right? I reach over and gently brush his hair away from his face. It's just as soft and smooth as it looks. I lean in closer and raise a lock towards my face. It smells nice, like herbs and fresh air, just like his apartment.

Vael mumbles something under his breath; I jerk my hand away. He isn't awake, is he? No, I think he's still asleep. I breathe a sigh of relief. Good; I'm really not sure how I'd explain sniffing his hair. People don't normally want to sniff other people's hair. But his hair is so pretty, and the only other time I've been close enough to sneak a sniff, his hair was wet.

My head feels hot and fuzzy, and I'm still sleepy. I blame at least part of that on Vael's weird tea. I flop down onto my pillow and sigh. I'm actually in Vael's bed with him, and we're both more dressed than Dark and I were last night. I'm not sure what to think about that. Maybe I should move back to the couch? No, I still feel heavy, so most likely all I'd accomplish if I tried to do that is fall over and either hurt myself or wake Vael.

Besides, he wouldn't be here if he minded, right? I glance over at Vael again; he's still sleeping peacefully. He doesn't seem to mind sharing a bed with me. Does this mean something?

Then again, maybe I shouldn't think too much about that, all things considered. There are a lot of things I'm trying to make sense of right now; I'm only making it worse by adding in more. I shouldn't be thinking about _anything._ I should be _resting_. Vael's worried about me.

I reach over and stroke his hair again. I'm not trying to worry him. I just don't know how I can explain any of this in a way that makes sense, and I'm not sure if getting Dark involved is going to make things better or worse. I'm sorry, Vael; I swear I'll tell you eventually.

We're so close right now, close enough that I could -- no, no! I shouldn't think about this. At least he's still asleep and can't see me blushing. Should I? I'm close enough, but what if he wakes up? How am I going to explain that?

If I'm careful, I can do this. I hold my breath and lean in closer. And then I stop. Why am I so nervous? He's asleep. He's not staring at me or anything. He just lays there, breathing slow and deep, a tiny little smile on his -- wait, a smile? Was he smiling earlier? Maybe it's just a trick of the light, or maybe he's just having a good dream? Yes, that must be it.

Don't I have enough to deal with right now without adding this in on top of it? I mean, it's not like we've never kissed before. Then again, I don't know if Vael even remembers it. One of these days I really need to ask him if he does. He's been acting like he doesn't remember, but then I haven't exactly brought the topic up either.

What if we both remember, but we're both too worried about how the other will react to bring it up?

I fall onto my back; no, I can't do it. I just don't feel right kissing him while he's asleep and unaware. And to think, Dark claims I'm the hero reincarnated. Sure. The hero is a man of incredible courage who battles monsters and saves Hyrule, while I'm not even brave enough to kiss Vael or to even ask him if he remembers the time we really _did_ kiss.

So _heroic_.

The wind picks up, and the sliding door rocks in its groove. The breeze makes something on the nightstand move. It's Vael's doll. What's it doing here? I know I left it on the couch when I came in here, so Vael must've brought it in here. But why is it _here?_ It sits on the nightstand almost like it's watching me. If Vael brought it in here, wouldn't he put it closer to himself?

I reach over and pick up the doll. "What are you doing in here?" I murmur. "Are you following me?" Of course it's not. It's a doll. Still, it _is_ weird.

I glance over at Vael. Is this his idea of a weird joke, maybe? I still want to kiss him, but I can't bring myself _to_ kiss him. But I have his doll now, so... This is a stupid idea, but what can I say? It won't be the first time I've done something stupid lately.

I give the doll a kiss on top of its little round body, and then I reach over and gently press the doll against his forehead.

Vael reaches up in his sleep to brush the doll away, muttering something under his breath. I let the doll fall to the bed between us. There. I did it. And Vael seems to be asleep still, which is good. I don't have to explain why I did that if he doesn't know I did anything, and what I did is just silly and harmless.

Thunder rumbles again. It's really coming down out there, isn't it? It's just as well that I can't make myself get out of this bed, because I really don't want to drive anywhere in a storm.

Besides, I'm pretty comfy right here. I look over at Vael again, though nothing about him has changed, so I really don't know why I do.

I close my eyes. I'm not sure if I'm going to fall back to sleep, but I can at least lay here and listen to the rain and Vael breathing for a while. It's better than trying to sort through my head.

 


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to take a moment and say thank you for all the comments and kudos. I'm glad to hear people are enjoying the story so far.

It's been over a week and a half since the night in the graveyard, and I still haven't heard from Dark. I've been trying not to think too much about that, just for my own sake, but it still bothers me. Shouldn't he have shown up by now?

I mean, for all I know, he's here right now, lurking in the shadows of my office and watching me while I sit here and try to work. No, that's unlikely. He couldn't even stay quiet for an hour when he was in my motel room that night. It doesn't seem possible that he could follow me around for over a week and not say _something,_ especially after Vael brought the Lens and the bracelet back yesterday.

But if he's not here, then where is he?

I shake my head. I have more important things to focus on than my supposed shadow, and if he truly _is_ my shadow, then he's aware of that.

Once I can make myself stop thinking about Dark, it takes no time at all to get lost in my work. It's a little after lunchtime when I ease the heavy volume I've been copying from closed and flip my notebook shut. There; I've finished copying everything I need, so I can finally take this book back down to the archives.

I may as well do that now, even if just to get it off of my desk. I slide the book in my bag and my bag over my shoulder, lock my door behind me, and head downstairs. The historical studies building is busy this time of day, especially down on the ground floor, full of students attending lectures or demonstrations, instructors leading classes, researchers working in labs or their offices...

I head to the archives down in the basement and spend several minutes filling out all of the paperwork to return the book properly. Now that I've taken care of that, it's after lunch, and I'm hungry.

I get halfway to the student union before I hear someone calling my name. Is that Ralph?

It _is_ Ralph. He waves me over to him. Now that I can get a good look at him, he looks more frazzled than he usually does.

"Is something wrong?" I ask.

He gives me a small grin, more relieved than happy. "Not really, but... Do you have a few minutes? I could really use a hand."

"What kind of a hand?"

"Boss-man wants me to grab some snacks for the meeting this afternoon. Would you mind helping me carry some of it?"

"What meeting? I didn't know there was a meeting today." Did I forget?

"Huh? Oh, right!" Ralph waves a hand at me. "It's not one of ours. All Boss-man told me was that it's a very important meeting that he needs to focus on, so I need to go get the food for him and then set up the projector and the snack table. Can you give me a hand carrying stuff?"

"Sure, I can help. Where are we going?"

"Just over to University, that's all. It's not that far, but still, I didn't really want to have it carry it all myself. It's a lot to balance."

I can believe that. I'm not sure exactly what he's getting, but takeout containers are really not meant to be carried in numbers. "How long do we have before the meeting starts?"

He checks his watch. "About an hour; we've got plenty of time."

We make our way across campus, past the museums and Old Main, and head through the west gate to University Avenue. It's busy, naturally. It's just after lunchtime, which means that the restaurants and taverns lining the other side of the street are all filled with students and researchers. I check the menus as we walk past. I can't decide if I want to come back over here or just hit the Union once I finish helping Ralph.

"It seems like all he _does_ lately is have meetings or go to meetings, just one meeting after another," Ralph mutters. "I don't even know who half of these people _are,_ but I'm always the one who gets drafted to make sure everything gets set up just right."

"Do you know why he's having so many meetings?"

"I dunno. He doesn't tell me much. I do all the work, and he gets all the credit. Just like always." He rolls his eyes and scoffs. "I did overhear him talking to someone about some artifact, but I was kinda busy at the time and didn't get to listen to much. For what it's worth, he hasn't asked me to clear anything out or move anything around."

That doesn't really tell me much. "That's all you know?"

"Whenever he finally bothers to fill me in, I'll be glad to share."

My guess is that at least some of these meetings are about the artifacts and documents from the Royal Archives Vault. We still haven't gotten those yet, and I'm not really sure what's behind the delay. Chambers hasn't mentioned much about it other than that we'll be receiving the shipment soon.

I've been too busy with other things to worry about it much. If Chambers wants my opinion on the situation, he'll ask for it, though I doubt that's ever going to happen.

"You know, it must be nice to be the one in charge," Ralph says after a moment. "Just kick back in your big, comfy chair and tell everyone else to do your work for you. Then just wait and rake in all the glorious credit."

"I'm not sure it's quite that simple," I reply with a laugh.

"Yeah, well, my uncle makes it seem simple," he says as he opens the door to the sandwich shop. It smells wonderful in here, like fresh-baked bread and cookies. The shop is as busy as everywhere else along the street, but the line's moving quickly.

And I get an idea. "Ralph, you ordered ahead of time, right?"

"Yeah, Boss-man called it in a couple of days ago; I'm just here to pick it up. Why?"

"Do you have a couple of minutes? I haven't had lunch yet."

"Huh? Oh, sure." He grins. "Go ahead and grab yourself something. We're a few minutes early, anyway."

Perfect. I hop in line and order a sandwich. I don't remember Vael coming by my office, so he probably worked through lunch, too. I should get something for him, too, I think. I get us both lunch, as well as a couple of cookies because they smell so good, and then I pack everything plus a couple of bottled drinks in my bag so my hands will be free.

By the time I finish, Ralph has his order paid for and ready to go. There's more to it than I was expecting -- two gallon jugs, two sandwich trays, and a large paper bag.

"Your uncle expected you to carry all of that by yourself?"

"Now you see why I asked for a hand," Ralph says. "Since you're helping, I'll let you pick what you want to carry."

The two jugs are clearly straight out of a refrigerator. Neither one of us will be able to carry them all the way back to the building without swapping back and forth or setting them down to warm our hands up or something... and that's going to waste a lot of time.

Wait, my riding gloves are in my bag; I dig them out and pull them on. "I can carry the jugs if you can get the rest."

"Hey, works for me."

We don't really talk on the way back to the historical studies building. Ralph mutters to himself the whole way; the pieces I can pick out sound like a checklist of everything he needs to get done before the meeting starts. It's a long checklist.

We're almost to the door when I hear "Historian Masters!" The voice is familiar, but I can't quite place it, so I stop and turn towards the sound.

Dark jogs up to us with a broad grin on his face. "Hey, there you are!" He pulls a large manila envelope out of his padded pictobox case and holds it out towards me. "Here are those pictographs you asked for. Sorry it took so long to get these to you."

Pictographs? What is he talking about? "Oh, uh, right." I set the jugs onto the sidewalk so I can take the envelope from him. It isn't labeled. "I'm a little busy at the moment, so I'll get back to you about these later." I don't know how I'm supposed to do that, honestly, but I'm not about to discuss any of this in front of Ralph.

"Works for me. I just wanted to get these to you. I hope they're helpful." He gives me a little wave and jogs away.

What is he talking about? Does this have something to do with that proof he said he could get me? I slide the envelope into my bag, trying to keep it from bending. It isn't easy; my bag's pretty full.

"Oooh, pictographs," Ralph says with a laugh. "Are these the incriminating kind?"

"No, they're not." At least, I hope they aren't. Considering the source, however, there's a good chance that they're the embarrassing kind. I shake my head and pick the jugs up again. One more reason to not discuss this here and now. "I was just having a few pictographs touched up."

"Aw, is that all? Guess I should've figured. You're too nice to take advantage of incriminating or embarrassing pictos, anyway." He works the door open and we head inside.

He's giving me a little too much credit. I've had several roommates, after all. "Are you saying that you're not?"

"I'm saying that it depends on exactly who and what the pictos show. Some things are just too tempting to resist." He leads me to one of the conference rooms on the third floor and unlocks the door. "Here we are. You can just set those on the table in the back. Thanks, Link. I really appreciate your help."

"Do you need anything else?"

He looks almost like he wants to say something, but then he shakes his head. "Thanks, but I can handle things from here. Catch you later. Oh, and enjoy your lunch."

"Thanks. See you around, Ralph." I start towards my office, remember what I have in my bag, and then change direction towards Vael's office.

Dark couldn't have known that I'd be helping Ralph just then, so he had no way to know that I'd be outside the building just now. Did he just happen to see me on his way past, or was he coming to deliver the envelope in person? If Ralph hadn't been with me, would he have said anything else, or would he still have just handed me the envelope and left?

He was probably on his way to or from class and just happened to see me. For all I know, he planned on sliding the envelope under my office door or something; even if he doesn't know where my office is, it's not like it'd be hard to find it considering all of our offices have little nameplates by the doors.

I'm letting myself get distracted by details. What's important here isn't how he planned to get them to me; what's _important_ is these pictographs, whoever or whatever they show. And they can wait a few minutes, because I want lunch first.

I knock on Vael's door.

"You may enter."

As I open the door, Vael looks up from the incredibly complicated diagram on his desk and reaches for his glasses. "Hello, Link. Do you need something?" He sounds as tired as he looks.

"Hey, Vael. Have you had lunch yet?"

"No, I haven't. Is it midday already?"

Worked through lunch, just like I thought. Not that I really have room to talk "It's almost two. I just back from picking up food; I got you a sandwich if you want it."

He rubs his eyes before sliding his glasses on. "You did? Thank you, Link."

"Do you want me to bring it to you, or...?"

"I think I'd rather get away from my desk for a bit, if that's all right with you."

"Sure." We go back to my office and make ourselves as comfortable as we can at my desk. While I get our food out of my bag, I also set the envelope where it can lay flat.

Vael waves a hand towards the envelope. "What is that?"

I should come up with some plausible-sounding excuse, but it doesn't feel right to lie to him about this. I've been keeping too much secret lately. "It's from my mysterious stranger. He says it has pictographs in it, but he didn't tell me what they show."

He scowls. "When did he give this to you?"

"Just a few minutes ago. I was helping Ralph carry some stuff, and he just walked up and handed it to me like I knew what it was."

"So he's willing to show his face in front of Ralph... This means he can pass for a student..." Vael murmurs to himself.

"I thought I told you that he's a student." Did I forget? No, I'm sure I mentioned it. I start eating my sandwich.

He sets his bottle on the desk and picks up the envelope, scanning the outside of it. "That also means you haven't had the chance to look through these yet. You don't know anything about them. Assuming these truly _are_ pictographs, they could show _anything_."

"I know." For all I know, it's a pictograph of the two of us in that motel bed or pictographic evidence we were in the old graveyard. I _really_ don't want Vael to see either of those, _especially_ the former.

Vael holds the envelope out to me. "Regardless, it's your envelope to open when and where you see fit. I admit I'm curious, but I also acknowledge that it isn't my business."

I take the envelope and stare down at it. At least he's understanding. Should I open this now, or should I wait until Vael leaves? I don't know.

I take a deep breath, open the envelope, and peer inside. Inside is a stack of pictographs, probably a dozen or so. I slide them out, careful to keep them facing away from Vael.

The top pictograph shows an old, crumbling ruin with mountains in the distance. The next several show interior shots, presumably of the same ruin. Those are followed by three different views of an ancient-looking monument shaped like a sword, followed in turn by a close-up. Nothing is immediately recognizable, but I can look them over in more detail later. I set each one on my desk when I finish looking at it.

The last two pictographs are taped together. The one on top is of Dark, shirtless, sitting on the floor behind a low table. It looks like he took the pictograph on a whim while working on something; I can _just_ make out the edges of several papers on the tabletop. The only things he's wearing in the pictograph are his choker and a broad grin. I'm not even sure he's wearing pants, but the table is covering him up, at least.

There's a battered old couch just behind him with his jacket draped over it. Something large and metal gleams from where it sits against one armrest; I think it's a shield. The hilt of a sword rises from over the armrest, like a sword is propped against the side of the couch. Does he just happen to keep those there, or are they in the pictograph deliberately? They _look_ like they're just resting where he put them, not like they're posed, but...

It's a weirdly normal picto, all things considered. But there's another one taped to it that I can't see without pulling the two apart, and it's probably best that I do that later, when I'm alone. I have a feeling that it's the kind of picto I _really_ don't want anyone else seeing.

"You've been staring at that one for a while now," Vael says. When I look up, he's looking over a couple of the other pictographs.

I look down at the pictograph in my hand and sigh. Vael _does_ want to be introduced at some point, even though I don't know if I should. Then again, considering Dark's apparently content to show up when I'm with someone, it's only a matter of time before he pops up when Vael's with me...

I hold the picto out to him. "Here. You want to know what my mysterious stranger looks like."

He raises an eyebrow at the pictograph. "So this is the man responsible for all of this. Interesting. Somehow, I expected someone..." He tips his head to one side, lips curled in a faint scowl. "I'm not quite sure how to phrase it, but I expected your mysterious stranger to be more _mysterious,_ not just some random student. I suppose I expected someone older."

Vael flicks the picto onto my desk. "I wonder: did this make it into the envelope by accident, or did he mean to give you this? All of the other pictos show some ruin."

I don't think he spent enough time looking at the pictograph to notice the resemblance, especially since he doesn't mention it. Vael isn't stupid; he's going to note the resemblance given enough time. How am I supposed to explain that? I'm going to have to figure that out before they meet face-to-face, because if I don't explain it, Dark will.

I put Dark's pictograph back in the envelope and go back to my lunch. Time to change the subject. "The ruin is the important part."

"Oh?"

"He said he was going to bring me proof. I'm assuming that these pictographs are supposed to show his evidence."

Vael raises an eyebrow at me. "Proof of what, precisely?"

That I'm somehow the hero reincarnated, not that I'm willing to admit _that._ "Proof that he knows as much as he claims to know."

"Ah, yes, those claims you're not comfortable divulging yet." He takes another bite of his sandwich and looks down at the pictographs again. "I'm impressed with the quality of these. He seems to understand you need to make out the details."

"You sound surprised."

"I am. I don't know what to think of this stranger of yours, Link. He clearly has the means to acquire magical devices, and whatever this monument is looks realistic. He seems to be a student, but when does a university student find the time to prowl ruins and locate old magical devices? It's unlikely he does this as part of his coursework unless he is more thief than student, and I've found no record of anything like your bracelet and Lens being found or lost.

"And yet this all seems far too elaborate to be a hoax."

"I don't think it's a hoax." How can I after everything that's happened? So much of this really only makes sense if I accept that Dark is my shadow and that he's somehow connected to Ganon's Slayer. I don't have any siblings; neither of my cousins looks that much like me. How can he be my dark twin unless he _is_ my shadow?

Vael adjusts his glasses and sighs. "I trust you have your reasons for believing that, even if you aren't yet willing to reveal them."

"Yes, I do. I just... I wanted proof. I'm not sure these pictographs are proof of anything other than the fact that he's good at pictography." Dark carries his pictobox around a lot. Does he study pictography?

Vael picks up one of the pictographs and looks at the back of it. "Something is written on this."

"Really?" I grab another one and flip it over. He's right. There's a large row of handwritten words running across the top half of the back. It's not modern Hyrulean. It's an older form, the same language I used to test him at the motel. Is this his idea of a joke, or is he doing this to be secretive?

"As if he knew you wouldn't be the only one looking at these pictographs..." Vael muses. "Rather knowledgeable about your skills, isn't he?"

"We've talked a couple of times, Vael. He knows what I do. He's interested in history, too."

"So I have gathered. That still doesn't explain him being capable of writing you notes in a language that only a few people still speak. I'm familiar with how this works, Link. This isn't Ceremonial Hyrulean; this is one of those old tongues that are really only of interest to historians and linguists." He scowls at me. "There is something here that you're not telling me."

Yes, there is, but there are reasons I'm not telling him. I take a long drink of my soda to buy some time to think.

He shakes his head. "No, I already know what you're going to say. You're waiting until you get more confirmation before you share the details with me." Vael sounds frustrated.

"Right. I don't mean to bother you with as much as I have, but you're the only one I can ask. Some of his claims are really out there, even the ones that do make sense."

"No need to apologize. Your questions have been rather interesting."

"I _am_ going to explain all of this to you, I promise. Once I know I can trust his explanations, then I'll fill you in."

"That's really all I can ask for, isn't it? Just please be careful, Link. I don't want you to get into something you can't handle."

"I'm being careful." That feels like a lie. What part of this has been me being careful?

He checks his watch. "I should probably get back to work. Thank you for lunch."

"You're welcome. See you later. Don't work too hard."

He chuckles and gives me a wry smile. "I could say the same to you. I'll see you later."

I lean back in my chair and stare down at the pictographs. What is all of this? I slide the taped-together pictographs out of the envelope and look at the exposed back. There's no note. All of the pictos of the ruins are labeled, but this one isn't.

I sigh and carefully cut the tape, pulling the two pictographs apart. The hidden one shows Dark naked and sprawled out on a bed. He isn't smiling, for once, but I don't really notice anything else because he's _naked_.

I snap my gaze away from the naked pictograph and shove both pictos of him back into the envelope. I _knew_ it! He put this in here specifically to embarrass me, because apparently the night in the motel wasn't enough for him. I don't know why he seems to enjoy this so much, but I do know I don't appreciate this. My cheeks are burning. I want to crawl under my desk for a while.

The first thing I'm doing when I get back to my apartment is to take the two pictos of Dark out of the envelope and... I don't know. Hide them. Burn them. Do _something_ to ensure no one else finds them.

In the meantime, I don't feel _quite_ as embarrassed now, so I turn my attention to the rest of the pictographs. They're all of some old structure, one I don't recognize. I pick up one of the shots showing the strange sword-shaped monument for a better look. On second thought, I don't think it's a monument, actually. It looks less like carved stone and more like an actual sword driven into a piece of rock, an old sword covered in ages of rust, debris, and corrosion.

I get my magnifying glass out. Something about the placement of the sword nags at me. It's straight up-and-down as best as I can tell, blade towards the floor and hilt pointing at the ceiling. There's something deliberate about it, like it was intended to look like a monument, but...

The sword doesn't look like a normal sword. Granted, I'm not that knowledgeable about old weaponry, but there's something about this sword that seems... special, in a way. I pull out some paper and a pencil and sketch the shape of the blade.

Once finished, I set my pencil down and examine the sketch. The sword looks simple yet elegant. A large diamond-shaped gem marks where the blade meets the hilt. The crossguard is shaped almost like wings. The blade is long and sharpened along both edges, but I'm not sure exactly how long it is because of the rock. The hilt looks like it's meant for a one-handed blade; it's a simple hilt, one that's clearly more for function than form. Even so, there's an elegance to the whole weapon, so is this an actual sword or just a ceremonial one?

I shouldn't be able to make out some of these details. I can't see them on the pictograph, so I don't really know they're there. Most of the details, if not _all_ of them, are obscured by dust and corrosion and age. Then why did I draw them? What makes me so sure that they're there?

Why is this so familiar?

I flip the pictograph over so I can read the inscription. 'The Master Sword sleeps in the Great Palace.'

Master Sword? Great Palace?

I see a pedestal in the woods, in a crumbling ruin, in a hidden room in a massive temple, in a room ringed with tall statues and stained glass windows, in a secret room inside an enormous statue. A sword waits there, blade thrust into the pedestal, dull and sleeping and marked by time and so very, very old.

This is just my imagination running wild because of a couple of pictographs. It's a monument shaped like a sword, or maybe it's an old weapon left there from an ancient battle. That's all it is.

No, that's _not_ all it is. The sword is an actual sword, and it was put there for a _reason_. But that doesn't make sense. Who would put a sword in a pedestal, and why?

I already know the answer. The hero put it there so it could sleep. The hero always finds his sacred blade in an ancient place and pulls it forth from a pedestal. He's the only one who can draw it, so by thrusting the blade into a stone pedestal, he puts the sword in a safe place. Only the next hero can retrieve it.

A simple sword meant for combat. An elegant sword holding sacred power. It has to be the Hero's Blade. There's nothing else it could be. It's _intact_ and it's _real_ and --

\-- Dark knows where it is.

My heart feels like it's pounding in my chest. He keeps talking about getting me all the proof I need. Would he take me to the Great Palace if I asked him? Because I want to see that sword with my own eyes.

No, I don't _want_ ; I _need_. I don't know why, but I need to see that sword. I need to run my fingers down that corroded blade and wrap my hand around that dusty and aged hilt. I need to take it from that old ruin and keep it close, keep it ready, keep it _safe_...

\---

Of course he isn't waiting for me when I leave for the day. Now that I _need_ to talk to him, Dark's nowhere to be found. I spend a few minutes lingering around the square to see if I notice him or he notices me, but he isn't here.

Okay, let me think. If I remember right, Dark has the same parking decal that I do, which means he has a garage parking permit. That rules out all of the surface lots. The south parking garage is the only one with designated motorcycle parking, so...

So I still have an entire row in a parking garage to check. There are at least two dozen motorcycles still in the garage when I check, but none of them are his.

He's not here. What am I expecting? It's late afternoon; he probably left hours ago.

I sigh heavily and climb into Epona. I don't know where he lives. I don't have a telephone number or any other kind of contact information. That means all I can really do is wait for him to show up, but I don't want to wait. I want to know where that sword is.

A car drives past on its way out of the garage; I catch a flash of it in my mirrors. There's nothing to be gained by just sitting here, and yet I can't make myself start my bike. I sit back in the saddle and stare out at the road, watching the cars pass.

Maybe if I wait just a little longer, I'll see him.

I hear several vehicles moving through the garage. Some pull out and head for the exit. Others pull in and park.

"Waiting for someone?"

I turn towards the voice and -- someone is standing _right beside me_. I jerk away and almost fall off of my bike.

Dark laughs.

"That isn't funny." I tighten my hands around the handlebars and try to catch my breath.

"Huh. I think it is."

"You're the one doing it, so you don't count!"

He sits on his own bike, parked next to mine, and doesn't say anything while I calm down. I didn't even hear him pull in and park. Am I that distracted? Or is he just that stealthy?

After a few minutes, I feel better. I lean back in the saddle again and let go of the handlebars.

"Rupee for your thoughts?"

"Did you take those pictographs?"

"The ones I gave you?" He grins broadly. "Well, _yeah,_ I did. Didn't I tell you that I've seen what you call the Hero's Blade? I think they came out damned nice, too."

I look down at my tank bag. "Where is this Great Palace? The legends mention it, but there's never been any proof it existed."

"Exactly. We didn't want anyone else finding the place, so we never told anyone where it was. Someone in the castle knew then and might know now, but basically, it's a secret to everybody but me." He shrugs. "It's hard to get to. It's deep in the mountains of Eastern Hyrule, at the far end of the Valley of Death, and the only entrance to the Valley of Death is in an old graveyard near Old Kasuto. And who even remembers that there ever was an Old Kasuto?"

That's a long drive and a very ominous name. Why is it so hidden? The legends say it was hidden because it was the secret home of the Triforce of Courage, so is that why? To keep it safe? That does make sense... As for Old Kasuto, Vael's from New Kasuto; there's never a _new_ without an _old,_ so there logically had to be an Old Kasuto or a Kasuto that existed at some point.

There's something familiar about the name though, like there's something important about it that I just can't quite remember. I shake my head. No, it's probably just because of Vael.

I have to ask, "Would you show me the way to the Great Palace?"

"If you want to go, sure. I can get you there. We could go now, even."

I look over at him and slump in the saddle. "I can't just run off, Dark."

"Okay, and if I give you time to prepare, are you going to talk yourself out of it?"

"Do you really think I'm going to do that?"

He shrugs. "You might. It's going to be a long trip and we're going to have to deal with a bunch of monsters. It'll be like the graveyard, only worse. You sure you can handle that?"

"If I can see the Hero's Blade, I can handle a lot." I don't know if I can, but I have to try. I have to go there and see the sword. I know I do.

He climbs off his bike and takes a couple of steps towards me, leaning in and staring into my eyes. His eyes look normal in this light.

"What now?" I have to fight the urge to pull away.

"Don't mind me; just checking something." He leans back and grins at me. "You mean that, don't you?"

"Of course I do. I'm taking this seriously, even if you're not."

"Oh, but I am. I know exactly how serious this is, probably even better than you do. You need to see the sword. I'm the only one who can get you there. I just want to make sure you know what you're getting yourself into. This isn't a simple trek, and this isn't a simple sword."

I give him a flat, unimpressed look. I don't need to be told that! "It's the Hero's Blade. I know that."

"Yes, it is. And it's more than that, too. The legends leave a lot of things out, Link. A _lot_ of things. The hero's sword is heavy with the weight of heroes and legends and destiny. Evil can't touch it. Only the hero can wield it. That kind of thing."

"I _know_ that."

"And you still want to see it."

"You don't understand, Dark. This isn't a matter of wanting. I _need_ to see it, more than I've ever needed anything before."

He puts a hand on my shoulder. "I understand, Link. Again, I just want to make sure you know what you're getting yourself into."

He's right. If I can draw that sword from its pedestal, then it's undeniable proof that I really _am_ the hero. If the hero of legend has returned, it's because Hyrule needs its hero again. If Hyrule needs a hero...

I stare out at the street. "Does this mean Hyrule is in danger?"

He sighs heavily and looks away. "Well... every time the hero is reborn, it's because Hyrule will need you, whether you're up to the task or not. I _can_ say for certain that the Master Sword is still sleeping. If it hasn't woken up yet, then whatever evil you're here to face isn't much of a threat yet either."

"So I won't set some beast free by drawing the sword?"

"What? No, no. The sword isn't sealing anything. It's just there to sleep. It was your idea, even. Well, not _you_. The Link before you, the one you call Ganon's Slayer. It's not the first time you and I have hidden the sword for the next hero."

Hang on. Did I hear that right? "Did you just say 'the Link before'?"

"Yes, I did." Dark grins at me again. "It's one of those funny little things. Your name never changes, and yet no one can ever manage to remember that their hero's name is Link."

Is that right? It's almost stupid, and yet when he says it, it sounds so _plausible._

"Anyway, we're not talking about your name. We're talking about your sword."

"It's not my sword, Dark." I can't think about it that way. "It's a sacred historical artifact."

"Tch, whatever. It's _your_ sacred historical artifact. I hope you don't think we're going all the way out there and back just so you can put it in a museum somewhere."

I don't answer him. The Hero's Blade belongs to Hyrule; it deserves to be on display in a position of honor. I've always believed that. But now, after seeing those pictographs, I have this powerful urge to find it and keep it safe. I need that sword close to me.

"This doesn't make sense," I say.

"Yeah, well, some things just aren't meant to make sense." He rubs my shoulder. "We've got time, if that helps. There's no great evil rampaging across Hyrule, so there's no need for the hero just yet. If you want to let your sword keep sleeping... it's your decision."

"I want it to sleep as long as it can, but I still need to see it." Why am I fixating on this so much? There's still the possibility that I'm _not_ the hero. I don't even know if I _can_ draw the sword, and yet I'm assuming I can and planning accordingly. I'm rushing things, aren't I? So why can't I make myself slow down?

"Well, yeah, I figured _that_. So then," he says with a laugh, "how soon can you get away?"

\---

I stare at the door to Chambers' office. Why am I so nervous? Is it because I don't know what the answer is? That shouldn't matter. This is a perfectly reasonable request. I have time saved up that I can use, and I don't have to tell him _why_ I want the break. The worst outcome is that he says he needs me around for now.

Maybe _that's_ why. If I don't get time off, then I can't go to the Great Palace. And if I can't go to the Great Palace...

I take a deep breath to steady myself and knock on the door.

"Come in," Chambers says from inside the room.

I ease the door open and step inside. "Do you have a moment, sir?"

Chambers looks from the mass of paperwork on his desk and peers at me over his glasses. "Of course I do, my hero. Is something the matter?"

"I'd like to use my vacation time."

"Ah. This seems rather sudden. Did something happen?"

"I'm all right, sir. I know it's kind of sudden, especially since we'll be getting those artifacts and documents soon, but I..." Think, Link, think! "I think I need a break."

"That's perfectly understandable. You've been working very hard lately, and once that shipment arrives, we're all going to be quite busy. When do you want to take your vacation?"

"As soon as possible."

He flips open the large planner on the side of his desk. "Let me see..." he muses aloud. "The storage facilities should be fully prepared by then, so I should be able to make the final arrangement for the shipment _then_..." He smiles beneath his bushy mustache and nods at his planner. "Yes, this is the perfect time. You can take your vacation and come back renewed and refreshed and ready to begin work on our newly-acquired documents."

He looks up at me, clearly pleased with himself. "How does next week sound?"

That's a lot sooner than I expected. "Uh, yes, that sounds fine, sir."

"Good, good." He writes something down in his planner and then draws a line all the way across it. "Then your vacation is next week. I hope you enjoy your rest and return to us ready to jump into the Archives."

He seems really eager to see me take a week off. Is it just that the timing is so convenient? Does he want to be sure that we're all prepared for the extra work that the shipment from the Archives Vault is going to require? "Thank you, sir. I appreciate it."

"Think nothing of it, my hero. Rest well while you have the chance."

"Right. I'll do what I can, sir." I don't think I'm going to get much rest, honestly.

"Good to hear. Do you need anything else?"

"No, sir, I don't. Thank you again."

I'm not going to complain that I have next week off, I think as I walk back to my office. Sooner is _definitely_ better than later, and yet... something about this just seems too convenient. No, I'm not going to question it. Chambers has his reasons, and I've got more important things to worry about than the timing of this.

I should load Epona tonight. That way, I'll be ready to go when I get off tomorrow. I need to get more arrows. Dark mentioned monsters, so I should assume I'll need plenty. Where are the monsters -- in the Valley, in the Palace, or both? I don't really like the thought of fighting inside an old, crumbling ruin. Maybe the monsters are all outside, out where I can pick them off with arrows if I must.

And I don't have a way to get in touch with Dark. I sigh and fall back into my chair. I keep forgetting to ask for his name and contact information. How do I keep forgetting to get those? Because he keeps distracting me with other things, I think darkly. He knows me too well. It's eerie how well he knows me.

I check my watch: almost two. I shake my head; I've been so distracted by asking for my vacation that I missed lunch again. I should go get something from the union, or maybe even University -- walking will help clear my head.

Has Vael had lunch? I walk over to his office. There's a sheet of paper taped to the door; he's over in the magical studies complex using one of their warded rooms. So much for that idea, then.

But that's all right. To be honest with myself, I'm hoping I'll run into Dark somewhere along the way. I'm aware that Vael wants to be introduced, but I'm really not comfortable introducing the two of them until I have a cover story for Dark at the very least. Not that I have any idea what kind of cover story I can come up with that explains both him being a stranger when we met and him looking so much like me. Vael's going to notice; he's going to call me on any little inconsistencies in my story...

I reach up and massage my temples. That has to be paranoia talking. Why do I keep rushing straight to the worst conclusion? I'll figure this out later. Hopefully, nothing will happen to force my hand on this.

I think I'm going over to University Avenue for lunch. There's more privacy there than in the student union building.

As I walk past the museum, I hear a shutter click. It's probably nothing -- a lot of people visit the museum, and all kinds of people take pictographs of the building and the nearby trees -- but I stop and take a look around just the same.

Sure enough, there are several people with pictoboxes standing outside the museum. Some are clearly tourists. Others seem to be students. Oh, right. I've seen this kind of thing before. Some kind of practice thing for pictography students. Wait, is one of them...?

One of them _is_ Dark. He's off to one side, well away from everyone else. Instead of aiming his pictobox at the historic building or the trees covered in brightly-colored flowers, he looms over a bush, lens practically touching the leaves. I watch him as he stands there for a couple of minutes, barely moving, and then finally clicks the shutter.

He straightens up with an achy sigh, peers down at the back of his pictobox, and scoffs. "Yeah, that doesn't work. Stupid bug."

I walk over. "What are you doing?"

"Failing at taking pictos of bugs." He raises his head and grins at me. "What are you doing?"

"I'm getting lunch. I was hoping I'd run into you at some point."

"Oh?" His grin turns into a smirk. "And why's that?"

"Because I know when I'm free, and you haven't bothered to tell me how I can contact you." I look around; no one's particularly close. "Or even your name."

"Tch, like I said, all my friends call me Dark."

"Yes, but what's your _name?_ You know mine."

He takes a leisurely look around, still smirking. "If you really want to know... I've had a lot of names. I think I like Dark Link the best."

Why is that so familiar? "That makes you sound like an evil version of me or something."

He laughs hard at that, doubling over the bush. When he finally starts calming down, he manages to force out, "You say that every time!"

"It's not that funny, is it?"

He looks up at me with tears in his eyes. Then he starts to say something, but all that comes out is more laughing.

I groan under my breath and cross my arms. I really don't see what's so amusing about this. He's drawing a lot of attention.

It takes him a few minutes to finally stop laughing. "Sorry. I shouldn't be laughing." He wipes the tears from his eyes, still snickering. "But if you could see the look on your face, you'd laugh, too. Damn, my sides hurt."

"You deserve it." Everyone I can see is going back to their own business now that he's calming down.

"Aw, now you're just being mean. I'm being serious. Normally you phrase it more like a question, but your reaction is _always_ that I'm your evil twin. And here I thought I'd finally done a damned good job of establishing that I'm _not_ evil."

"Then why are you Dark Link if you're not evil?"

"Well, leaving aside the _obvious_ , I _am_ a shadow." Dark pulls himself off of the bush and brushes leaves off of his shirt and the lens of his pictobox.

"It sounds more like a title than a name."

"Which is why I said you could call me Dark. That's what you've always called me."

But I haven't --! "Do you have to phrase it that way?"

"What? It's true. You're the one who gave me the nickname in the first place."

"No, I didn't. One of the heroes gave it to you."

"Oh, right, now we're going to get all pedantic about it."

I give him a sharp glare. "I'm not being pedantic! I'm just being realistic! Whoever gave you that nickname _isn't me_. Even if I am somehow him reincarnated, I'm not _him_."

He sighs; his shoulders slump. "I know that, Link. Part of you never changes, but the rest of you is always different. I _know_. But it's always you. That's how I see it, anyway. An earlier you gave me that nickname, and we've both used it ever since."

We're not getting anywhere like this. I have the feeling that we're trying to use the same words to describe two different concepts.

"Anyway," he says, "you said something about being free?"

Right; that's only the reason I even stopped to talk to him. "I have next week off. I know it's short notice, but --"

"Hey, I was ready to go yesterday. You're the one who needs to get ready; if it's not too short for you, then it's good for me. Do you want to leave together, or should we meet up somewhere?"

"I don't know where we need to go. All you've told me is that it's in Eastern Hyrule."

He laughs. "Oh, right! Well, the closest town to where we've got to go is Waypoint, but that's a pretty long drive, especially if you want to leave from here tomorrow afternoon. It might be better to stop in Nabooru for the night."

Okay, I know where Nabooru is. It's a decently long drive, but it shouldn't be too bad. It's been a while since I've crossed the Great Bay Bridge; I don't remember how bad the traffic is. "We should probably do that. Otherwise, we'll get there before dawn. If we're going to have to deal with monsters, I'd rather do it when I can see them."

Dark nods. "You'll need the light to see, anyway. We'll be able to get through on our motorcycles, no problem, but it'll be off-road the entire way."

"Can we make it that far?" I like the idea; I won't have to figure out how to haul my gear with me if I can just leave it in the saddlebags.

"I've done it more than once. As long as we leave Waypoint with our tanks as full as possible, we'll make it back to town. Maybe I should leave earlier in the day and get us a room."

That would make it easier, but at the same time... "How are we going to find each other?"

"Shit, good point. Guess we should leave together. It works for me as long as it works for you. Just remember: it's going to be dangerous. Come armed if you come at all. And if you decide you can't go through with it..."

"Dark, I'm _going_. Nothing you say is going to talk me out of this."

He chuckles and gives me a broad grin. "I'll remind you that you said that."

That's certainly ominous. "You went out there to take those pictographs, didn't you? It can't be that dangerous if one person can do it himself."

He shrugs. "You're assuming that one shadow is equal to one person. I've spent a lot of time fighting, and as I think I've proven, I can be very stealthy when I want to be."

I fail to see how hiding in walls really helps in this situation. "Yes, but you know we can get through on wheels. That implies you've done it before. Your motorcycle seems to be identical to mine, and I know for a _fact_ that it's impossible to be stealthy with Epona. Stealth has nothing to do with it."

"We're not going to be on the bikes the entire time, Link. Stealth has plenty to do with it."

"We're going to ride past monsters, aren't we? How many? What kind?"

He crosses his arms and laughs. "Of course we are. There are monsters all over the place once you get into the mountains. Let's see... some Moas, maybe a few Goriya, lots of Moblins and Lizalfos --"

"Geru," I say, though I'm not sure _why_ I say it.

"Tch, whatever. Some floating eye things that I never bother to learn the name of -- and no, they're not Moas. They're just... eyes. Last time I went, I actually saw a few Dodongos, too. Decent mix, but the biggest threat they've got is just their numbers."

"That's a big advantage." Is speed better than a numbers advantage? I don't know. Assuming decent terrain, we can get a _huge_ speed advantage, but that assumes decent terrain.

"Having second thoughts? That's fine."

I should refuse to do this. It's dangerous, and the more he talks, the more risky this entire thing sounds. But I can't shake the image of the Hero's Blade from my mind, nor can I ignore how badly I _need_ to see it for myself.

"You're not scaring me out of this, Dark," I say, keeping my voice low. I know where the Hero's Blade is. What is an army of monsters compared to that?

 


	7. Chapter 6

A long drive over rough terrain, Dark said. We'll have to deal with monsters, he said. Worse than the graveyard, he said.

That still doesn't explain why I'm now driving as fast as I dare through an incredibly long, narrow canyon through a mob of things out of my nightmares and _why_ am I _doing this?!_

A spear flies past my head, close enough that I could hear it shoot past if not for the sound dampening on my helmet and Epona's roaring engine. But there's nothing in the world that could make me take my helmet off, because there are things throwing _spears_ and _boulders_ at my head and I don't want to _die_.

The terrain isn't as rough as I thought it would be, which is good, because every part of my mind is screaming at me _faster faster don't fall behind_. Dark is somewhere ahead of me, leading the way through the canyon. I can't actually see _him_ , only the massive cloud of dust his motorcycle kicks up as it speeds northward.

I'm not sure why it's called a valley when it's more of a narrow canyon, but I know why it's called Death -- because that's what it is, mile after mile after mile of spear-and-stone-slinging _death_. How did Ganon's Slayer get through here? If not for my bike, I'd already be dead. What about Dark? Could he somehow fight his way through this mess, or is he just as reliant on speed and maneuverability as I am?

What in the name of all that's holy do I think I'm doing out here? I can't fight! All I can do is hold the throttle as far open as it goes, try to avoid anything large, and pray I don't crash.

The canyon gets even narrower ahead of us, narrow enough that for a moment I worry we're headed straight for a dead end, and then it opens into something much larger. It's an abrupt change. One moment I'm penned in by tall, jagged canyon walls, and the next, the walls seem to leap away. I can just make out the shape of something large and mound-like -- a hill? -- through the fading cloud of dust ahead of me.

And then I find out why the cloud is fading -- Dark's parked sideways ahead of me!

I slam on the brakes and jerk the handlebars hard to the left and almost lay my bike on her side, but somehow, I dodge around Dark and his bike and get myself stopped. We almost crashed. Almost. We didn't actually hit; I'm okay. No, _not_ okay. I need to get moving again before those things catch up to us!

Epona isn't running anymore; why not? Did she stall when I made that wild dodge? Did I turn her off by sheer force of habit? Doesn't matter; she needs to be _running_! My fingers fumble with the ignition, but my hands are shaking too much to grip it properly. I'm going to die. Those monsters can't be far away and they're going to catch up and I can't get away and I'm going to die here.

I'm going to die out here, and no one will ever know. Dark was right. This _is_ like the graveyard, only worse. So much worse.

Arms clamp around my waist and start lifting me out of the saddle. Something has me! I try to kick at it, but all my boots strike is Epona. I thrash and twist in its arms, trying desperately to get it away from me, but I can't break its grip. I have to get away; I won't let it have me! The thing yanks my helmet off. Or maybe I knock it off in the struggle. I don't know. It doesn't matter. Either way I just lost the closest thing I have to armor.

It's going to eat me!

"Link!"

Dark sounds close. Why isn't he doing something? Why isn't the monster attacking me?

"Hey, Link, snap out of it!" His voice is really close, practically in my ear.

I tense. "Dark? I-is that you?"

He laughs; the thing holding me vibrates with the sound. "You tell me."

It _is_ him. "Why are you holding me?"

"I was _trying_ to tell you that we're safe in here. You started fighting back, and I really didn't want to get hit, so I just held on and waited for you to calm down."

"Things have been trying to kill me for _hours_ now!" I snap. "How was I supposed to know that the thing clamping its arms around me and picking me up was _you_ and not something trying to _eat_ me? And what makes you so sure we're safe? Those things have been pursuing us all day!"

Dark points towards the mouth of the canyon. "See for yourself, Link. The monsters aren't willing to enter this valley. They never have been."

He's right; they _aren't_. Some of them stand at the canyon entrance yelling and waving their spears and boomerangs, but behind them others are turning and walking away. Why won't they come in here? They didn't have any problems chasing us all the way through the Valley of Death.

I don't see anything in this little valley except for the mound of rock near the center. The only possible explanations I can come up with are that there's some kind of barrier keeping them out -- and I think I'd notice passing through a barrier even while terrified -- or that whatever lurks within that mound is even nastier than the mob.

"They're afraid of something in here, aren't they?" I don't want to be here anymore. I'm clearly in over my head. What made me think this was ever a good idea? Dark described this place as the graveyard, only worse; that should've been all the reason I ever needed to stay away from here!

"The Great Palace once held the Triforce of Courage," Dark replies, as if it's something I should already know. "It wasn't left undefended, and those guardians are a lot stronger than a few hundred monsters." He leans his head on my shoulder. "I told you this wouldn't be easy."

"That's probably the closest I've ever come to dying." Even the graveyard wasn't like this, but I'm committed now, aren't I? The only way out of here is back through the Valley of Death and that mob of monsters. I'll have to face that soon enough, but right now... No, I can't make that ride twice in one day. "You can let go now."

"Well, you didn't die. You're not even hurt." He laughs and lets me go, walking over to his motorcycle. "So this is what you're like when you get frantic. Are you always this violent, or is this something you save for me?"

"How am I supposed to know? You're the only one who drags me out to places like _this_. No one else I know puts me in situations where I worry about _dying!_ "

"Yeah, but that just means I've got more to show you than anyone else. We can live a life of adventure!"

Does he sound proud of that, or am I just hearing him wrong? I don't know. I lean forward on the handlebars. My heart's finally returning to its normal rhythm, and I'm not shaking quite as much. I watch him walking around, examining the ground and kicking a few smaller rocks out of the way. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm setting up camp. Unless," he says, grinning, "you want to go inside tonight."

Honestly, I think I'd like to take the chance to calm down and maybe look around out here a little bit. "How do you know we're safe here?"

"I've already told you nothing comes in here. Remember, I gave you the chance to stay home, and you said nothing was going to convince you otherwise." He's giving me a weird look, like he's trying to see through me, or maybe like he's looking at someone else.

I look down at my bike, staring down at the little pewter horse dangling from my keyring. Malon and the guys in Kakariko would never believe me if I told them about any of this. Not the trip to the graveyard, not Dark being my shadow, and not _this_. I can't tell anyone about any of this. Hero's Blade, Great Palace...

Wait, that's why I'm here: to visit the Great Palace and to see the Hero's Blade. I turn my attention to the mound. The mid-afternoon sunlight dances over its surfaces, the shadows showing lines and gentle curves, but those aren't all the shapes of rocks. There's a crumbling column, and there's a half-collapsed roof, and _that_ looks like part of a wall... The mound isn't a mound; it's a ruined building!

I climb slowly off my bike and head towards the ruin. The last time anyone other than Dark was here was when Ganon's Slayer claimed the Triforce of Courage and then left to awaken the sleeping princess. How long ago was that, exactly? All I know is that it's been hundreds of years.

Dark and I are the first people to see this place in centuries! We're the only people who have been here since the hero... I pull off my gloves and put my hand on one of the columns, the weathered and time-scarred rock warm against my skin. _He_ was here, and now I'm here.

Or is it that I was here before and now I've returned? That's how Dark seems to think it works, but I can't be the same person. I don't remember _anything_ that happened before, so Ganon's Slayer -- or any other hero -- and I are completely different people. But then why do I have such a need to be here?

I frown at the stone. I still don't have proof that I _am_ the former hero reincarnated. I need to stop thinking like I am. All I'm doing is confusing myself. Even so, I think I'd rather stand here with my head running in circles than dwell on the fact that I'm here at the Great Palace and I can't tell anyone about this. I can't tell Chambers or anyone else involved with the Project, even though this is the discovery of a lifetime. This is proof that the legends involve real places and real events, but...

"There's a mob of monsters waiting at the entrance to the canyon," Dark whispers in my ear.

When did he get so close? "I don't care." Right now, all I care about it what's in front of me.

I take a few steps back so I can see more of the ruin. It's still tall, even with most of the roof collapsed. I can guess at how it once looked. Or is it a distant memory trying to resurface? I'm not certain, but either way, I can picture the columns reaching high into the sky, gleaming white in the sun. A large, airy structure open on the sides...

"Yeah, time hasn't really been too kind to this place. You know how it goes. Things get old. Things fall apart. I'm not sure if you remember what it used to look like, but this place used to be damned beautiful."

"I'm sure it was." Shouldn't it be larger? I thought this was supposed to be home to a massive labyrinth of corridors, but this isn't large enough to house that. The legends mention underground dungeons at multiple times, so is that it? Is the labyrinth of corridors under our feet? I look down at the ground. How much has ground level changed over the years? Am I even looking at the entrance to the Great Palace, or is this merely the crumbling remnants of the roof mixed with sediment?

I'm no good at this sort of thing.

"And again, the key to calming you down is waving something old in front of your face," Dark says with a chuckle.

I turn around; wow, he's standing close. "This is my _work_ , Dark: proving that the legends aren't just myths and tales and that the heroes were real men who lived through real events. I thought you knew this. Do you realize how many people would love to be here right now?"

"I swore that I would lead exactly one person to the Great Palace: the next hero. Not some treasure hunter or thrill seeker or even a group of historians."

"I know; I can't tell anyone about this. No one would believe me, and no one's going to venture this far into dangerous territory for an old ruin even if they did."

He narrows his eyes; his shoulders tense. "Good. I'm not sharing this place, Link. I'm not going to let anyone else come in here and crawl all over this place. This may look like an old ruin, but it's so much more than that. This place belongs to _him_ , and it belongs to _me,_ and it belongs to _you_. I won't let anyone desecrate this place, Link."

What is it like remembering this place when it was intact but seeing it as a ruin? He knows what happened here, but if he keeps up with the legends, then he's also heard how time has distorted the tale. I feel like an invader. I shouldn't be here. He came here with the hero, and now...

"Dark, I'm --" I start to say, but he cuts me off by throwing his arms around my shoulders and holding me tight. He doesn't say a word; he just buries his face in my jacket and clings to me, shoulders shaking.

And I don't know what to do anymore. Not that I really knew what I was doing ten minutes ago, but now... Now time feels like a massive, crushing weight, destroying everything and leaving nothing but shattered ruins. I've never felt so powerless before. He's been leading me by the hand through all of this, showing me things that belonged to people he knew and places he went centuries ago. If he is who he claims to be, then he sleeps and he wakes. He's seen things that have been otherwise lost forever. What is it like to see everything he knew crumble and be forgotten?

How can he even bring himself to talk to me? What am I but a constant reminder of what he's lost?

I really don't belong here. Why did he even bring me here in the first place? Why has he done _any_ of this? He's the one who first got my attention; he could've just never spoken to me. I'm _mortified._ Do I try to comfort him? Would that only make it worse?

I hear a strange sound, like a whispering voice too quiet to properly hear. My throat gets tight; tears sting at my eyes. I put my hand on the center of his back and leave it there. I'm not really sure why I do it, just that it feels like the right thing to do.

"Sorry," he finally says, his voice rough, pushing me back and quickly returning to his bike. "We should finish setting up camp."

'Camp', such as it is, is a pair of bedrolls and a lantern. We can't have a fire because there's no wood to be had in the valley, and neither of us had the room to bring any with us. It's not that cold out here, though. A little chillier than Northcastle, but not enough for me to worry. I have clothing for the weather. I have my tent, too, but the weather calls for clear skies for the next several days. I like the idea of sleeping out under the stars.

My tent isn't protection from anything except wind and rain, anyway.

Dark hasn't said a word since he stopped holding me. I haven't either; I'm leery of breaking the silence. Now that the sun has dipped below the mountains, the air feels heavy and almost reverent. All I hear is the wind and the distant voices of the monsters remaining at the mouth of the canyon. Apparently they're making camp for the night as well.

Dark sits on his bedroll, patching up a tear -- no, a cut -- on his jacket sleeve. Every now and again, he looks over at me, but his gaze never seems to focus on me. I feel like I'm standing in for his ghost again, but this time, it's understandable. This whole place just _feels_ ancient, a reminder of a time that was old before Dark and Ganon's Slayer ever set foot here. It's easy to let my thoughts run wild and imagine myself as Ganon's Slayer.

Maybe he did the same as we're doing now. Maybe, after a long and arduous trek through the Valley of Death, he camped here in the shadow of the Great Palace, so close and yet so far from the Triforce of Courage.

I hear that weird whispering again. Dark doesn't seem to react to it; am I the only one who hears it? Is it in my head? I'm thinking too hard; that must be it.

I flop onto my bedroll. I can't see the looks Dark keeps giving his ghost, but I can see the twilit sky above us. A few stars are already visible in the darker parts of the sky, and I'm sure there are plenty more to come. We're  a long way from any towns. The view must be spectacular out here with no skyglow.

My right shoulder aches. I reach under my shirt collar and rub at it. When did I hurt myself? During the ride, maybe, or possibly when I made that frantic dodge so I didn't crash into Dark. But this doesn't feel right for that. I've pulled muscles jerking the handlebars more than once, but right now, my shoulder feels more like I slammed it into something. Weird.

I go over the last couple of days as best as I can, but I don't remember doing anything that would make my shoulder hurt. I start poking gently at it, feeling for a tender spot. I don't find one.

"Are you all right over there?" I hear Dark ask. He's speaking an older form of Hyrulean, one that's too archaic to be the form I speak every day, but it's not as old as the form I tested him with and he wrote his notes in.

Something about this particular form, outdated but not ancient, seems to fit with this place, so I answer him in it. "It's nothing. My shoulder just hurts a bit."

"How'd you hurt yourself this time? Did one of the spears catch you?"

"No. It feels like I hit something big or heavy. I'm not cut." I'm stringing the words together quicker than normal. I don't understand. That humming is still in my head, and it feels like I'm thinking too hard, but I'm thinking faster? Then again, I don't have any distractions out here. It's just Dark and me, and we're both speaking the same old language.

Dark walks over and sits down next to me, poking at my shoulder. "How long has it been hurting? You didn't mention it earlier."

"It wasn't hurting earlier. It started just now."

After a moment, he stops poking and starts rubbing it gently. "You don't seem to have any bruises."

"That's why I'm confused. I don't remember doing anything to hurt my shoulder. It doesn't seem hurt, but now it aches and it won't stop."

"Does anything else hurt?"

I sigh and close my eyes. "If I'm being honest, my head is... It's not exactly _hurting_ , but there's this sound. It sounds like a whisper or low voice. It's quiet, barely noticeable, but it's _there_. And you don't seem to hear it."

"I hear wind and monsters and your voice. There's nothing else to hear. We're in the middle of nowhere..." There's a long pause, like he's contemplating something, but then he says, "I told you that you shouldn't keep blocking every rock they throw at you. Sooner or later, one of them was going to be bigger than you thought it was."

"Blocking was faster," I reply. "Force of habit."

"And look what it got you."

"You don't have any room to talk. I don't set out to provoke them."

He laughs at that. "Can you blame me? I get really sick of them throwing their damned rocks at me."

I snap my eyes open at the sound -- it's so _loud_ \-- and blink up at him. "What's going on here?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't remember you provoking anything. And I don't remember blocking anything, either. What am I talking about?" How could I block something? I was too busy driving as fast as I could _to_ block anything, and even if I wasn't, I don't have anything to block _with_. And if Dark provoked anything, I wasn't close enough to hear it.

But somehow, I _do_ remember. I remember Dark provoking a bunch of Geru behind a wall by heaving the biggest boulder he could find at them. I remember being ambushed by another group of Geru at some other point in time and blocking their rocks with my shield. One of them hit hard enough to knock me down even _with_ my shield in the way.

"You okay down there, Link? You look kind of pale."

"I remember doing something that I _know_ I've never done."

"Like what?"

I tell him. I expect him to laugh it off or to have some kind of snarky response, but he just nods. "I thought so."

I sit up. "You thought what?"

He shifts position, making himself more comfortable. "The Link you call Ganon's Slayer and I got ambushed a lot, especially by Lizalfos."

"Geru, you mean?" Has this happened before? This feels familiar.

He rolls his eyes, smiling as he continues. "They had this really irritating habit of hiding behind things and raining rocks down on us when we passed. All we could really do was run through as fast as we could. Usually, I'd run and dodge, but you preferred to just hide beneath your shield. Well, one of the Lizalfos threw a rock that was a lot bigger than you were ready for, and..." he waves a hand in the air. "Your shoulder ached for weeks after that."

Is he saying that I'm remembering something that happened to Ganon's Slayer?!

"I'm not him..." I protest weakly, but right now, I can't even convince myself of that. This all makes some strange, twisted sort of sense. It's why I needed to come here; it's why I'm speaking an older Hyrulean with so little effort; it's probably even why I've been having all those weird dreams lately.

"Part of you is," he replies. "Like I told you a couple of days ago, part of you never really changes."

"I _can't_ be..."

Dark rocks his head to one side and crosses his arms. "Then why are you here? I took you to the old graveyard and you got attacked by that Stalfos. I warned you about how this would be worse and how we'd have to deal with monsters. You told me that I wasn't scaring you out of this and insisted on coming, but, you see, there's something that you seem to have completely overlooked." He meets my gaze and stares. "Not _once_ have you asked me why I didn't just bring you the sword."

He's right; I haven't. "It's the Hero's Blade. Only the hero can draw it forth, or so the legends say."

"Which is why we're here, right?"

"I said I needed to _see_ it; nothing more!" Yes, I have that strange need to keep it safe, but that doesn't mean I'm the hero. It just means I realize how important the sword is to Hyrule.

He grins, showing his fangs. "'So I won't set some beast free by drawing the sword?' You asked me that, remember? Not what happens _if_ you draw it, but what happens _when_ you draw it. It's like you already _knew_ you were going to be able to draw it from the pedestal."

"I didn't..." I did say that, didn't I? "I don't know why I said that."

"Just like you don't know why you remember seeing me provoke a bunch of Lizalfos. Speaking of which, how's your shoulder doing?"

My shoulder...? "It doesn't hurt anymore."

"Then do I need to say anything else?"

_Yes_ , he most certainly does. "Why is this happening to me?"

"Which part? You're the hero, so you're going to have to retrieve your sword at some point. Right now, we have the great luxury of time. If you're asking why you're remembering things, well... That I really don't know. You don't normally remember much of anything. In the past, it's usually just recognizing things or places you saw in an earlier life, not, well, actually remembering specific events." He chuckles. "Maybe it's because you're so interested in the past. You're already looking back, so it's easier for you to dredge up old memories."

That might be it. Goddesses, that's a strange thought, that I'm so fascinated with the legends because I'm the hero reincarnated. Is this some strange form of vanity, or am I trying to find some clue only available through hindsight?

"None of this makes any damned sense at all," I mutter.

Dark laughs again. "Does that change anything?"

We're camping outside the Great Palace. We're next to where the Hero's Blade is sleeping. Does he really think I'm going to change my mind now that I'm this close? I'll have to dodge monsters all the way out whether I go into the Palace or not, and I'll never forgive myself if I turn back now just because of an old hero's memories. The memories are confusing, but they also convince me even further that I'm supposed to be here doing this.

"No. It changes nothing."

"Good. Then we'll head in tomorrow morning. In the meantime, you should get some rest. It's been a long day."

\---

The entrance to the Great Palace is, like everything else, battered by time and the elements. I can just imagine what it looked like with all of the columns standing in rows and practically glowing in the sun, but I'm not sure how much of it is imagination and how much is echoes of memories. The air hums faintly with vestigial magic.

Dark stops in front of me; I nearly walk right into him because I'm too busy looking around instead of watching him.

"Why are we stopping?" I have to ask.

He waves a hand at the crumbled archway that guards the entrance to the Palace. "We shouldn't go this way. It's too unstable. It might collapse when we try to walk through it."

There's a comforting thought, I think darkly. What happens if we get inside and the only way out collapses behind us? If we get inside and a room caves in atop us? No, the foundations still look stable, and I don't see any sinkholes or sunken places in the valley around the Palace, so I think it's safe to say the underground portion is still mostly intact. It's just the surface structure that looks ready to fall apart, the entrance more so than the rest of it.

"Is there another way in?"

"Of course there is. There's a hidden entrance around the back. It's how I got in to take those pictographs. I didn't realize the main entrance looked ready to fall down on top of us. Shouldn't be surprised, I guess. No one's been here to maintain the place. The hidden entrance was fine a couple of weeks ago, so we shouldn't have any problems."

It takes us a while to actually find this hidden entrance; there isn't an easy way to identify it, especially amid the piles of rubble. Finally, Dark yells triumphantly and waves me over, revealing a narrow passageway leading down into darkness. It isn't nearly as damaged as the main entrance.

"It's a tight fit, don't you think?"

Dark rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. "It's not that tight. I got through with my picto bag last time. My shield made it a little too tight of a fit, but that's why I left it at home this time."

"You have a shield?"

"I have a damned _beautiful_ shield. I think it was in that picto I gave you. When we get back to Northcastle, I'll show it to you."

He's missing my point, possibly deliberately. "You have a _shield_ and you didn't bring it with you? Wouldn't it be more useful here even if it _did_ make this a tight squeeze?"

He gives me a grin. "I'm not going to need my shield, so I didn't bring it."

I raise my eyebrows. "You sound awfully certain of that."

"I am certain of that. I was just here a couple of weeks ago, remember? Now come on; we've got some walking to do. Are you ready?"

I dig my lantern out and turn it on. There isn't going to be any light inside, and unlike _someone_ , I can't see in the dark. "I'm as ready as I can be."

Even if I _am_ the hero reborn, I'm not going to be able to just walk up, slide the Hero's Blade from its pedestal, and walk back out. There's no way it can be that simple. Something's going to happen down there. I just don't know what. I take a deep breath, and with one last glance up at the morning sky, I follow Dark into what remains of the Great Palace.

Inside, the Palace is a dark, broken, forgotten labyrinth. Dark knows where to go, thankfully. He leads me through a series of winding, crumbling corridors and half-broken and collapsing bridges. Down four floors, up two, down again; I quickly lose track of how far below the surface we are. The air in here is cold and stale, and a thick layer of dust covers everything. The floor is uneven in many places and strewn with rubble, broken torch sconces, and pieces of battered armor and rusted weapons. Nothing moves except for the two of us, the flickering shadows cast by my lantern, and the centuries of dust swirling around our feet.

We don't talk. There's no real need, and this doesn't feel like the time for conversation. The further in we go, the colder and dustier the air gets, until there's enough dust in the air that I can _taste_ it. I pull out my bandanna and tie it around my lower face. I'm not really sure what a simple piece of cloth can do against the weight of hundreds of years of inactivity, but it warms the air a little and keeps me from breathing dust, at least.

Dark snickers.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

I shake my head and continue walking. His eyes have that too-bright almost glow to them again -- it must be connected to his ability to see in the dark. Maybe it's because he's really a shadow in human guise, so certain things make the illusion slip and some of his true nature peek through? That's plausible enough.

I reach up and adjust my bandanna. Dark snickers again.

I raise an eyebrow at him as he tries to hide a smile and fails miserably. "All right, are you going to tell me what's so funny, or are you just going to keep laughing at me?"

He grins. "You just have to have something green on your head, don't you?"

So my bandanna is green. How is this amusing? But it distracts me from his eyes, so fine, we can talk about this. "I like green," I say. "You make it sound like I live with green on my head."

"But you kind of _do_. Your helmet's green, too."

"I don't walk around with my helmet on." Even if I did briefly consider wearing it down here. "Really, what's so funny about me wearing green?"

"Because you keep saying you're nothing like him. Link had this floppy green hat that he wore around a lot. Except when I stole it, of course." Dark laughs, but it's tinged with sadness; his voice reverberates off the walls. "And here you are with your little bandanna. It's cute, but I think I like the hat better."

"I have a helmet, not a hat. If you expect me to wear a hat, then you're going to have to get me one."

"Or I could just tie that cloth of yours over your hair; close enough."

Why is he even putting so much thought into this? "You _could_ , but why would you?"

"Do I need a reason?" With that, he yanks my bandanna off and ties it behind my ears so it covers the back of my head. "There! Now you look like you're wearing a hat."

"Hey!" I reach up and feel my head. All of my hair is under my bandanna now except for my bangs and the hair in front of my ears. I don't think I look like much of an idiot, but I can't be certain without a mirror. At least Dark's the only one who can see me like this.

He, naturally, looks pleased with himself. "Like my handiwork?"

I scowl at him. "I was wearing that so I didn't breathe in dust."

"Do you want mine? Here." He whips his out of a pocket and ties it around the lower half of my face. "This better?"

The bandanna is warm from riding in his pocket. Why does a shadow have body heat? "Uh, thanks. I could just use my own."

"Yes, but then you wouldn't have your little hat." He leans in close, close enough that our noses practically touch.

I step backwards. "Why do I need to have a hat?"

"Because it makes you look cute."

"Why are you so worried about me looking cute?"

Dark grins at me. "I have my reasons." Then he turns and starts walking down the corridor, calling, "It's not much further now!"

Does he do this because he likes to see me flustered, or is there some other reason? I shake my head and follow him. Are we really almost there? How can he even tell where we _are_ in this maze? This whole place is just _eerie_. I swear I see things moving just beyond my lantern's light, and the murals on the walls are intact and gleaming one moment and shattered and dull the next.

And I hear things, too. Wispy, ethereal voices that fade in and out, soft and echoing, loud and still. I hear that weird droning, hum-like whispering again. Must be the stale air. At least I hope that's all it is.

Where are all of those guardians Dark claimed were here? I've seen a few statues, but... "I thought you said this place was guarded."

"It was. Heavily, even."

"Then where are they? There's nothing in here! Surely the monsters aren't staying out of the valley because of what happened centuries ago!"

Dark shrugs. "Monsters are stupid."

"What keeps them from coming into this valley? What keeps them from exploring these ruins?"

"You're that worried about it?"

" _Yes_." I want to know if there's _really_ anything keeping that horde from coming after us in our sleep. I need to know if there's anything in here with us now.

Dark sighs. "All right, fine. No, there aren't any guardians lurking in the ruins. They died or were destroyed a long time ago. But this is the resting place for the Master Sword. You know all the legends about endless woods and all of that? They're real. This place was a maze back when it housed the Triforce of Courage, and it's still a maze now that it holds the Master Sword. This is the kind of place that, unless you know the way, a person or a monster could vanish into and never ever leave. You get enough people or monsters vanishing into the depths of this place, never to be seen again, and the result is that everything with a lick of sense stays well away.

"So trust me, Link. They think this place is cursed."

Vanish into the depths and never ever leave, unless you know the way... That's a terrifying thought, one that makes the whispering in my head seem louder. The tales of endless woods have to be exaggerations. That's what I've always thought.

Now that I'm following Dark through this maze, however, I can believe they're real. There's no possible way to navigate this place without foreknowledge or inhuman luck. I'm not even sure how Dark knows the route. It's so complicated. How can he remember it all? How did Ganon's Slayer find his way through this?

I again have to wonder why I'm even here.

"And here we are," Dark says finally, stopping in the center of a large, circular room. "The Master Sword is just through that door."

The door he points to has an enormous stone chair in front of it, and sitting on that chair is the single largest suit of armor I've ever seen. It's _massive_ , broader than even Garrimed and taller, too. It towers over me, and it's still _sitting._ It's positioned so it looks like a person in armor sitting there, a huge flail draped across its lap. Why would someone to go all of the effort of posing a suit of armor down _here?_

"Why'd we stop?"

He waves a hand nonchalantly towards the armor. "That armor's in the way. You need to do something about it before we can go through the door."

I scowl. "Can't we just walk around it?"

"You need to do something about that armor, Link. Get to it." Dark sounds so damned _smug_ , like he knows something that I don't.

"Fine!" I snap, clipping my lantern to my belt and walking over to the chair. I expected something to happen down here. I expected to be tested somehow. I didn't expect to be asked to move a suit of armor. Even as big as it is, it can't be that heavy. A good shove should knock it to the floor.

Then again... what if it isn't just armor? The legends mention massive armored things lurking in the dungeons, and I know magical armor that moves on its own exists -- though creating it is difficult and magic-intensive, according to Vael. This place is ancient; who knows what kind of magics the people who built it had access to. It's plausible that this armor is going to attack me if I touch it.

In fact, it's _very_ likely. Here and there, I can see depressions in the floor surrounded by cracks and small pieces of stone. Someone or something has _clearly_ used that massive flail in here.

I move backwards and close my eyes, trying to listen for magic. It's no good. This entire place echoes with magic, and the whispery hum in my head won't let me trace anything to a particular source. I can't tell if the armor is magical or not.

I get my bow out, ready it, and nock an arrow. If this thing is going to come after me, then I want to wake it up from a safe distance, just to give myself a chance to run.

The arrow bounces harmlessly off the breastplate; the suit of armor doesn't move. I fire a couple more shots with the same result. Maybe I'm wrong? Dark claims there aren't any guardians left.

I lower my bow. "Really, we can walk around it."

Dark doesn't answer.

Of course we can't take the easy way. That doesn't inconvenience Link enough, I think, rubbing my temples. Fine, if he wants this suit of armor moved, I'll move it. So I give it a good, hard shove --

The suit of armor pitches over and crashes to the floor, pieces clattering and clanging across the stone floor in all directions. I cringe at the sound; it's _loud_ , and the echoes seem even louder. I watch the pieces scatter, wondering just what the point of this is.

"There! I did something about the armor! Can we go now?" This is so _stupid_. If the Master Sword is in the _next room_ , why am I still in here?

He doesn't answer this time either. I don't see him now. Where is he? Probably hiding in the shadows, that's where. He must be hiding well, too; I don't even see his glowing eyes. My lantern creates a small ring of light around me, but most of the room is shrouded in darkness so thick I can _feel_ it.

I head for the door. I just want to get to the Hero's Blade.

" _No_." It's a command. "You haven't earned the right to walk through that door yet."

"You never said anything about earning the right." I can't see him; he _must_ be hiding from me. I can't even tell where his voice is coming from. "You wanted me to do something about that armor, so I _did_. What else do you want me to do?"

"If you want to claim the Master Sword, then you have to defeat its guardian."

"What guardian? What are you talking about? Why are you hiding?"

No answer. I keep looking for his eyes glowing in the dark, listening for any slight sound that could tell me where he is or what he's doing.

A chain rattles behind me. I turn towards the sound --

Something _large_ swoops past me, curving downwards. I flinch at the motion and the rush of air and the loud, stone-shattering _thwam_ that whatever it is makes when it slams into the floor beside me.

The flail. It's the flail the armor was holding. The spiked head is partially embedded in the floor, cracks radiating out from where it struck. I stare down at it in shock and then quickly ready an arrow.

No, the suit of armor is still strewn across the floor from when I shoved it over. The flail's handle rests on the ground, as if whoever or whatever swung it at me dropped it. I sidestep until I'm standing over the flail and continue to scan what I can see of the room. I don't see anything. If there's a guardian here, shouldn't I know it's here by now?

I keep scanning the room, arrow ready, racking my brain for options. My bow is only good if I can see or hear well enough to find a target. My knife can be swung in an arc, but it's still only a _knife_. I have no real range with it, and if whatever is in here has any kind of armor... I could try using the flail, but I don't have the slightest clue how to use a weapon like that, assuming I can even lift it. If only I could find a spear; I might be able to work with that. My lantern is really only good for helping me see, which, while _vital_ , isn't really helping me much at the moment.

Do I know any useful magic? No, of course I don't. Damn it, I'm in trouble.

I hear the _twang_ of a bowstring and jerk back right as an arrow grazes my right cheek, slicing through the cloth and nicking my skin. I fire at the sound in response, but all I hear is my arrow clattering uselessly against the wall and floor. I'm bleeding, and I can't even fight back!

"There," Dark whispers in my ear. "Now we match."

I whirl around, but he's not there. Or I can't see him if he is. "What's going on here?"

"You want to see the Master Sword, don't you?" He laughs; he sounds like he's right in front of me, but there's nothing there. "Then you have to conquer yourself."

Conquer myself? What does that have to do with this? Is Dark attacking me, or is there something else in here? I swing my bow at the sound, but I don't hit anything. I fumble around in my bag; there has to be something in here I can use! My hand finds the Lens -- I yank it out and feed it magic.

The magic reveals a figure in front of me, just barely lighter than the darkness. It has glowing red eyes, like burning coals in the gloom. "Dark? Is that you?"

"Does it matter?"

It has to be him. This is what his eyes looked like in the graveyard. This is what he looked like when he came out of the wall at the motel. "What is this about?"

"You want to see the Master Sword, don't you?" he asks again. The burning eyes move away from me; I turn to track them. "Are you just going to stand there forever?"

"What do you want?"

The flail rattles underneath me. I look down; it's moving! Something's picking it up! I grab at it, catching the chain just below the large spiked head, and hang on tight. I don't see a figure, only thick, wispy gray-black tendrils wrapped around the flail's handle. What is going _on_ here?

I try to yank the flail away, but the tendrils are stronger than I am. It's all I can do to hang onto the chain. I have to do something, because if they're strong enough to lift the flail, they're strong enough to swing it at me.

Weapons are no good; I'd have to release the chain to use either of them, and I still haven't managed to hurt anything. My spells are simple enough that I don't need my hands, but what good are my simple flame and spark spells against whatever those tendrils are?

Wait. My spark! Metal conducts. The tendrils are wrapped around the flail's handle...

I grit my teeth and pray that I can cast through my riding gloves. And then I shove outward with everything I have and scream the word for spark.

Blue lightning crackles around my hands. With a loud _snap_ that leaves my hands numb and pinpoints of light dancing across my vision, it rushes down the chain, miniature bolts arcing from link to link. I hear a shriek of pain as the tendrils release the chain and jerk away; electricity dances down them as they dissipate into nothingness. The lightning fades.

I let the chain fall to the floor and try to stay on my feet. The air bristles with static now, and I swear the hair on my arms is standing up inside my sleeves. My hands are still mostly numb, but the pins and needles feeling is starting.

"That was... impressive." Dark isn't too far from me, doubled over and clutching at one arm, his glowing eyes narrow. "The hero is supposed to be able to think on his feet."

"Are we done now, or is something else going to attack me?" I flinch at the pins and needles but force myself to flex my fingers and rub my hands together. There doesn't seem to be any lasting damage, though that doesn't make it any more comfortable.

He straightens and solidifies back into human form, sword in hand. "Do you think you're going to be attacked again?"

I bend down and pick up my bow from where I dropped it, trying to ignore the stinging in my hands, keeping my eyes on Dark while I do. After all of this, he's going to stand there with a weapon? "I didn't expect to be attacked at _all!_ "

"Sometimes the attacks come when you least expect them." He raises his sword and seems to examine it. "And sometimes they come from where you least expect them." Then he grins dangerously and charges me.

I snap my bow up just in time to block his swing. By some miracle, my bow stays intact and in my hands. He shoves down, but I shove up. We're in a stalemate. I glare up at the sword -- at the flat of his sword. He's not attacking with the edge...?

My grip falters and he shoves hard. I recover, but not before he almost has me on my knees. He's too strong. My bow is flexing the wrong way under the pressure; I don't have long until it breaks! I hear it _crack_ above me and do the first thing that comes to mind: I kick him. He staggers back, so I move with him and kick again, sending his sword skittering across the stone floor. I chase after the sword, snatch it up, and dash back over to stand over the flail.

My bow is damaged and probably useless now, and I'm holding a weapon I don't really know how to use and standing over another one, but he's unarmed and out of reach. And he's _laughing_ , a loud, triumphant laugh, as if everything has just gone exactly the way he wants it to go.

"Stand down!" I thrust the sword towards him.

Dark grins and holds up his hands. "You win, Link. I yield."

"What's going on here?" I can't keep my hands from shaking. I'm too tired, too sore, too confused.

"It's simple, Link. You had to prove yourself worthy of the Master Sword."

"Why were you attacking me?"

"Because I know exactly what to look for."

The flail struck the floor next to me even though my back was exposed. He was swinging the flat of his sword at me. Even the arrow seemed aimed to either miss me entirely or just graze me, and it's possible I dodged _into_ it. "You weren't trying to hurt me, were you?"

"No. The arrow was an accident; I should've just aimed over your head. Still, now we match, right?"

Is he talking about the graveyard? He doesn't even have that cut anymore. "I thought you were a monster."

"Okay, and you just kicked me."

"You were coming after me! I had to defend myself!"

"Oh, hey, you're starting to get it. The whole _point_ was to make sure you could defend yourself."

"And what if I couldn't?"

He shrugs. "I'd've figured something out, I guess. I just assumed you'd be all right. Anyway, that's all said and done, so do you want to see the Master Sword or not?"

He makes this all sound so _normal_. "You're not going to attack me again?"

"The whole reason I attacked you at all was because of your orders. I know you don't remember, but when we brought the Master Sword here, you made me swear that I wouldn't let the next hero take up the sword unless he could protect himself."

I reach up and press the bandanna against my cheek. I want to be angry about this whole fiasco, but I can't actually make myself get mad. Annoyed, yes, but that's all. Now that I'm calming down, I'm most angry about the cut on my cheek. Why am I more angry that I'm bleeding than I am that I was attacked? This makes no sense!

"Besides, I _swear_ I just needed to see your reaction. Also, those boots hurt."

Of _course_ they hurt; they're thick-soled, steel-toed riding boots. And I can't help but think that he _deserves_ it. "Sorry. I just wanted to get you away from me. You attacked me; I didn't know what to think."

He rubs his left wrist. "Tch, guess you're right. How 'bout we say I got what I deserved and call it even?"

"As long as you _never_ do that again."

"All right. I swear that I will never attack you with an actual weapon unless asked to do so. I reserve the right to come after you with pillows, though, just so you know."

"Wh-what?" That seems so absurd. For all I know, the next time he swings a sword at me, it will be edge first, and he's talking about attacking me with _pillows?_ "Stop mocking me!"

He looks away, his head low. "I'm not. I'm being serious."

I sigh and rub my temples. Ugh, my glove smells _terrible_ , almost like it's burned. When I take a better look, I can see why. The material is charred, half-melted, and dotted with small holes. The pattern of the chain links is seared into the palm. Apparently I _can_ cast through a pair of gloves, but the magic damages the gloves in the process. Lesson learned. I need to replace my bow _and_ my riding gloves once I get back to civilization.

Still, I'll leave them on for now. Even damaged gloves are warmer than no gloves, and it's pretty chilly down here. "You're finished trying to hurt or spook me, right?"

"Right."

"Good." I walk over to the door and shove it open. The hinge groans at the motion.

The room beyond has clearly seen better days, just like the rest of the Great Palace. What's left of a balcony still clings to one wall, and the broken remnants of statues line the perimeter. A cracked dais fills the center of the room, holding a simple stone pedestal with an ancient, weathered sword rising from it.

My breath catches in my throat. There it is, the Hero's Blade. I stop at the edge of the dais, staring at the sword. The air in here is still, calm, _reverent_.

"May I touch it?" I keep my voice low; it doesn't seem right to make much noise.

"It's your sword. I don't see why you can't."

I swallow hard and step onto the dais, pausing to make sure nothing happens. When nothing does, I approach the sword. It doesn't look like the sacred blade of legend. It looks neglected and time-worn, forgotten by everyone and everything.... It hurts to see it like this.

I run two fingers up the flat of the blade. A piece of me cringes every time my gloves catch on a damaged bit. Flakes of corrosion and rust come off on my fingertips. A thin strip of some kind of material -- leather? -- is wrapped around the hilt. It's rotted and nearly destroyed by the ages; just brushing it makes pieces crumble to dust.

The sword is a priceless artifact of Hyrulean history. It's also proof that Dark's been telling the truth, just like he said he'd get. This is indisputable proof of whether or not I really _am_ the hero reborn. If I am, I can draw this free from the stone. If I'm not...

I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly, and then I wrap my hands around the hilt and cringe. Nothing happens. No ghosts of ancient heroes or offended gods strike me down for daring to touch such a holy artifact. All that happens is that the hilt hums faintly, barely perceptible, through my damaged gloves. Is there still magic inside the sword, even after all these years and all this damage?

There's really only one way to find out. I have to try to draw it.

The blade has practically merged with the stone, held fast by the corrosion, and at first, the pedestal doesn't want to yield the blade. But then the sword shifts, and after that, it takes almost no effort to slide it free of the pedestal. The hilt fits in my hand like it was made for me. The weapon is so _light._ I rock my hand around just to move the sword, and it seems to flow through the motion, almost like it's moving itself. Even like this, even with all the age and damage, this sword is _beautiful_.

I'm holding the Hero's Blade, the blade of evil's bane, the holy weapon that has saved Hyrule time and time again in the hands of the Chosen Hero. I just pulled it free of the stone it has slept in for centuries.

Farore, Dark is _right_. He really _is_ the hero's shadow. And I'm... I still don't want to believe it, even now, but how can I deny it with this sword in my hands?

I hear Dark walking towards me and start to turn to face him. The motion makes the world start spinning, and everything turns _blue_. Dark and the room both vanish beneath a flurry of images and sounds --

I see snow covered in footprints, some human, some not. "Kill her guards and bring her to me!"

I stand in the middle of a large, open room with an enormous, formless not-quite-pattern of jagged and forked lines singed into the walls and floor. Ceramic _shatters_.

A shadowy form with glowing red eyes leans over me. "Isn't it obvious? You've already lost, _hero_."

I see the footprint-covered snow again, this time covered in splashes of vivid red and deep blue. Metal _crunches_ together and _crashes_ into something solid.

I watch a dark figure raise a large piece of metal that gleams with sunlight. "It will be _mine!_ "

A man with a pig's face in a long, floor-length robe stands in an open doorway. Engines _roar_ and brakes _squeal_.

I see myself falling to my knees, clutching at the mangled slump of my left wrist. "Where is it?! I _know_ you have it!"

A figure in a flowing robe hovers over my bike; the only features I can make out are long horns and sharp talons. Someone _screams_ in agony.

There's a light in the distance. It starts small, like a flickering candle, but it gets brighter and brighter until I'm surrounded by a warm light that turns everything golden. I hear faint singing somewhere in the distance.

And then I hear the _twang_ of a crossbow firing, and everything goes black and silent.

 


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you to everyone who has left kudos. As for the comments, well, I'm going around and responding to everything I didn't before (and I do apologize for that; I shall endeavor to be less slow about responding in the future). Better late than never, I hope?

Twenty-seven minutes. I have been standing at this bus stop for _twenty-seven minutes_ and have yet to see a single bus. There is supposed to be one bus every ten minutes this time of day, so _where are they?_

I'm scheduled to meet Historian Chambers in a bit over an hour to discuss preliminary tests on our shipment from the Archives Vault, but now I'm not even certain I can get onto campus by then. Unfortunately, I don't have any options other than continuing to wait. I can't even call Link for a ride; he's over in Kakariko City visiting his aunt and uncle this week.

Though I do have one other option: I could teleport to my office. I would need a few minutes to gather and focus the magic for it, but once that is done, the trip itself is instantaneous. I take a deep breath and slowly blow it out. No, teleportation may be an option, but it isn't a particularly viable one. Historian Chambers hasn't bothered to elaborate on those tests he wants me to run, though I know enough about the tests _I_ want to perform to know that I'll need all of the magic I can muster. This isn't the time to waste magic and mental effort on something like teleporting.

And even if I _did_ choose to expend the energy and effort, I would likely only succeed in injuring myself. Every teleport I've tried since coming here has been off-target in some way, and there's far too little open space in my office for me to feel entirely comfortable with the idea. I'd rather not teleport myself into a chair again.

I slide my watch out of my pocket. Thirty-one minutes. Three buses have failed to show themselves now. I drum my fingers against my arm and stare down the road, peering over the cars and trucks for any sign of an approaching bus. I see nothing useful.

I'm going to be late. There is absolutely no denying that fact. The ride from here to campus takes forty-five minutes when traffic is cooperative, such as at seven forty-five in the morning, on the bus I typically ride and fully intended to ride today. Traffic is _not_ cooperative at eight fifteen.

This is so frustrating. I'm going to be _late_ , and there's nothing I can do about it! I hear metal rattling; the large frame holding the map in place is vibrating, striking the more solid metal of the shelter. I watch it for a moment and then close my eyes and smooth down my hair. I shouldn't let this bother me so much. Frustrated anger isn't going to help this situation. I blow out another slow breath to calm myself.

The bus stop has quite the little crowd now; there have to be at least two dozen of us waiting here. I furrow my brow at that. If _this_ stop is crowded, then the others will be, as well. And we're all waiting for the same bus.

Until now, I had considered this to just be horrible luck on my part. Now, however, I'm convinced that some power or another is punishing me. I can't say that I don't deserve this, but I'm still not amused. Why must this happen _today_ , of all days?

Thirty-eight minutes. I hear noisy brakes in the distance and open my eyes. It's a bus -- or rather, _three_ of them back to back, easing up to the bus stop in a neat line. All three of the buses are more crowded than I'd like, enough that I feel a knot in the pit of my stomach.

The next bus is scheduled to arrive in just a couple of minutes, assuming _it_ isn't also running late. I don't know what traffic is like aside from my assumption of heavy.

No, I can not afford any more delays. I sigh heavily, mostly just as an excuse to take one last deep breath, and board the least-full of the three buses. There are only a couple of empty seats left, both surrounded by people. I decide to stay standing and lean against one of the poles near the second door. This is... _tolerable_. For the moment.

I stare out the closest window, focusing as much as possible on the motion of the bus as it moves and not on how more people climb on at every stop, slowly yet steadily filling the aisle with bodies. After a few stops, I close my eyes so I can't see people looming over me and approaching closer and closer. The sound of voices grows louder, conversations and children's cries making my ears ring. The air seems to thicken, pressing in on me from all sides. I breathe quickly, trying to counter the growing tightness in my chest and throat -- I need _air_.

I don't get air. All I get is more and more people climbing onto a bus that seems to be moving slower and growing smaller with every stop. I grab the shoulder strap of my bag and hold it tight. I'm trapped between the frame of the bus and a wall of bodies and -- breathe, I tell myself. Just keep breathing and focus on the bus...

Someone leans against my shoulder. Some kind of bag or pack bumps into my head when I try to step away. There are bodies all around me and even more bodies beyond those, and with every breath, they're closing in. I'm being crushed; no, I'm being _compacted!_ I want nothing more than to lash out with my magic and shove every last person as far away as possible. My hands tremble, and my magic coils and shifts around and through me, desperate to be released.

No, I will _not_ let myself lose control. No matter how much my heart pounds and I want to scream for the lack of space and air, I _won't_ lose control!

The ride lasts far too long, and despite my best efforts, I can feel the grip on my magic slipping. Finally, _finally_ , I hear the announcement for the campus bus stop. As soon as the door next to me opens, I squeeze free of the crush of bodies and leap off the bus, gasping for air as I stumble away on shaky legs.

I find a bench away from the crowd and fall onto it. I know I need to get to the Project offices, but I refuse to do much of anything until the feeling of being trapped subsides. There's a breeze this morning, or perhaps my magic has slipped free of my focus and is making its own breeze; I honestly don't care which it is. There is _air_ circulating and room to _breathe_.

Once my legs finally feel stable enough to walk, I climb to my feet and make my way towards the historical studies building. As I walk, I stretch my hands and flex my fingers to get the tension out. I wave one of my hands towards an open space with tables and a bulletin board, releasing the magic I've been holding back. There is nothing important here; at most, I might blow something off of the board.

My wave is answered with a loud _bang_ as the magic punches a dent into a trashcan I didn't see and topples the can over onto its side. I stare at the trashcan while what just happened sinks in, and then I reach up to pinch the bridge of my nose. Apparently I'm not as recovered as I thought I was, seeing as how I just failed to notice a _bright blue bin_.

At least no one else seems to have seen that. I can simply pretend this wasn't my doing and continue on my way. By the time I reach the historical studies building, I'm over an hour late.

Historian Chambers isn't in his office, and the door is locked. There's no note saying where I'm supposed to meet him on his door, nor is there anything on the door to my office. I lean against the wall next to his door and cross my arms, waiting, though my patience doesn't last long. Ralph isn't in his office, either, though he has helpfully taped a note to his door that says he's in Artifact Storage 3. Ralph has to have a better idea of where Historian Chambers is than I do, so I make my way down to the basement.

The hallway leading to the artifact storage rooms is now blocked off by a thick security door with a small window in it. So we'll be storing the artifacts from the Vault here, then? I suppose that's easier than having to cross campus every time I want to examine something, though there are already several secured areas for storage across campus. I walk over and peer through the window. One of the doors roughly halfway down the hall hangs open, and at the far end is what appears to be another security door.

From what I can remember, the Project only had three or four rooms down here, with all of our other storage rooms scattered between the various buildings on both campuses. If I'm right about that second security door, then the now-secured section contains at least ten rooms, possibly more.

Somehow, I doubt the university approved of this.

I knock on the glass. When I get no answer, I knock again, louder. There's still no answer. No call from a room, no one peering from a doorway, just silence. Oh, no, I did _not_ force myself through that bus ride just to waste my time staring at some fancy new door. I bang my fist against the glass, but the result continues to be absolutely nothing.

Very well then, I think, don't come open the door. Just leave me out here alone with the vague knowledge that I'm expected to do something behind a door that I can't open. I take a deep breath, and then I take a step back and hurl a blast of magic at the center of the door. It strikes with a loud _crash_ that rattles the door in its frame and echoes across the basement.

I probably just gave myself a headache, but I feel so much better now.

"What the --?!" The door opens, and Ralph leans out, brow furrowed. "Vael? Was that _you?_ You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

That makes me feel even better now, to be honest. "I knocked, but apparently no one heard me."

"So you did -- what was that, anyway? Sounded like a cannon going off." Ralph peers around, almost as if he's trying to convince himself of something.

"Consider it testing the security door." I can sense multiple magics now that the door is open. My head aches dully; yes, I have given myself a headache. At least it was worth it.

He shakes his head and lets me in. "Okay then. Wow. You use magic for some weird stuff."

"Some of my instructors were worse," I counter. "My bus was late. Do you know where Historian Chambers is?"

"Boss-man? He's in Storage 2. I'm not sure what he's doing, but he doesn't want to be disturbed. And considering he hasn't so much as cracked his door, not much is going to disturb him, either." Ralph walks back towards one of the rooms.

I follow him, expecting a better answer than _that_. "I see. Did he leave any instructions for me?"

He waves his clipboard. "I'm stuck unloading one of the crates in Storage 3 and checking the manifest. All I know is that he mentioned you were coming down to help us, but he didn't say what you'd be helping with, so... No clue. I kinda hoped you knew that part."

Ah, wonderful. So Historian Chambers is the only one who knows what he wants done, but he's currently busy with whatever it is that he's doing and couldn't be bothered to leave even the most rudimentary instructions. This sounds about right. We're simply supposed to already know what he wants before he tells us. As usual.

A rather large wooden crate sits partially unloaded in the center of Storage 3, surrounded by a small sea of strewn-about packing material. An assortment of items rests on two nearby tables, ranging from jewelry and goblets to platters and lanterns. The room sings with lingering magic, enough that most if not all of these items bear some form or another of enchantment.

The ache in my head gets worse, although I'm not certain why.

Ralph groans loudly and tosses his clipboard next to the small wooden box on one table; I narrow my eyes at the clatter. "Vael, could I ask you to give me a hand with something?"

That depends on what that something is. "What do you need?"

"Could you check this manifest for me? Because I swear nothing's on it. Not a single thing."

"Are you reading the right page?"

"I've checked _every_ page, Vael. Either this is the wrong paperwork, or I forgot how to read."

It seems Ralph is having as wonderful a morning as I am. Yes, Ralph is prone to making errors here and there, but this sounds a bit too incompetent, even for him. I retrieve his clipboard and flip slowly through the manifest, comparing the objects on the list to the objects I see on the tables. Some of the items seem similar at first glance, but the details are wrong. Nothing on the tables is described in the manifest, and not a single item on the manifest matches what I see before me.

"If you've forgotten how to read, then so have I," I say. "Everything about this is wrong."

"Oh, thank Nayru, it's not just me." Ralph slumps forward on his stool and lets his head rest against the tabletop. "Guess this means I get to make my own."

"It seems so." How is this possible? These are supposedly priceless ancient artifacts that have been locked away in the depths of the Royal Archives Vault for untold years. My understanding of this is that it took a lot of doing and string-pulling on Historian Chambers' part before the Vault personnel even _considered_ letting us see these pieces, let alone have them shipped out of the Vault and to our building.

This is a situation that requires the utmost care, yet here we have this glaring oversight.

"Are you certain this is the right crate?"

Ralph raises his head and gives me a flat, unimpressed stare. "I'm not _that_ stupid, Ziota. I already checked the other crates, and they all perfectly match their paperwork. This is the only crate left. _Yes_ , I have the right crate."

"I felt the need to ask, especially since you’ve acknowledged being at least a _little_ \--"

"That's _not_ what I meant and you _know_ it! Come on, cut me some slack!"

No, I'm quite certain that's what he meant, but this is hardly the time to argue that. "Believe it or not, I _am_ trying to be helpful."

He sighs. "Yeah, I _know_. Still, just... _Ugh_. This sucks." He lets his head fall again. "Unless someone's hiding another crate somewhere, we're missing part of our shipment. How does this even _happen?_ "

I'd like to know that myself.

Ralph grumbles something about trouble always landing on his head as he digs through the cabinets for paper and then starts writing his list. I, meanwhile, retrieve my notebook from my bag and start a list of my own. I still don't know what Historian Chambers expects of me, nor do I have the time or inclination to test each of these pieces in turn today, but I can at least record my first impressions.

Overall, the objects on the tables seem in good condition for their age. The enchantments on them are weak, likely from age, yet stable enough. The platters and goblets seem decorative or at least very formal, and there are few enchantments appropriate for such things -- protection from shattering, casting light or playing quiet music, or perhaps keeping food warm or a beverage cool. The jewelry might have more interesting and practical effects, however; protection for its wearer or perhaps even some simple spells that can be fired.

That assumes that the enchanters were the practical sort. Enchanters can have _such_ strange priorities...

I lean against the table with one arm and use the other to massage my forehead. The ache isn't going away. It isn't painful enough to keep me from my work, but it is a constant irritation nonetheless. I still consider striking the door well worth it.

Someone knocks on our storage room’s door; by the time I raise my head, Historian Chambers is in the now-open doorway. "Ralph, haven't you finished that paperwork yet?"

"Well, er, you see, there's a slight problem..." Ralph replies, looking up from his list. "This list doesn't match."

"What are you talking about?"

"This shipping manifest is for a different crate." He tenses and explains the problem, finishing with, "Vael can back me up on this. He checked, too."

Historian Chambers narrows his eyes. "Is this true, Ziota?"

"Fine," Ralph mutters. "Don't believe me." Historian Chambers doesn't seem to hear it.

"Yes, it is," I say. "As he said, nothing matches. We're working on a proper inventory."

He stares at the two of us for a long moment, his expression somewhere between annoyance and disgust. "Yes, see to that. I want to know what we received. In the meantime, give me that paperwork; I need to find out what happened to that crate." He turns to leave, but then he stops and turns back to us. "I had wanted you to examine the contents of the missing crate, my mage, but since that apparently isn't an option at the moment, I'd like your impression of anything magical in the crate we do have."

"Yes, sir." Yes, yes, I'm well aware that he wants to know my opinions on these artifacts. That is likely the entire reason he wants me here, and it is the only reason I tolerated the fiasco with the buses. "Is there anything in particular you'd like me to watch for?"

"I'd like an overview of this crate so I can decide what to do about this. The Vault will need the details of their mistake." With that, he leaves, closing the door behind him.

I close my eyes and continue massaging my head. I can hear Ralph moving around, grumbling to himself again, but I have no real interest in whatever it is that he's doing. If Historian Chambers doesn't have anything in particular he wants me to note, then I'll simply continue noting the things that I deem noteworthy. If that isn't what he wants, then he should have been more specific, shouldn't he?

I don't know why I even bothered to ask. It isn't as if I should expect the Royal Historian to concern himself with _minutia_ , now is it?

This isn't helping my head, though I _still_ maintain striking the door was mostly worth it. Speaking of which, Historian Chambers didn't even so much as _mention_ hearing anything. He should have heard it, yes? Storage 2 is closer to the security door than Storage 3, and the sound was loud enough to startle Ralph... Yet if he did hear it, surely he would have mentioned it or given me a brief lecture on not damaging Project property at the very least?

No, never mind; I honestly don't care. I have my hands full enough with what's in this room, though I actually feel a bit sorry for Ralph. His uncle is being extra difficult today.

Some of these enchantments are less stable than I first thought. The magic on this ornamental lantern is uneven and tattered, barely holding itself together in places. Is this magic even strong enough for anyone else to detect? I should ask Link when he returns from his vacation; he has a good sense for magic.

"Hey, uh, would it bother you if I finish unloading this thing?"

I glance up from my notes and raise an eyebrow. "As long as you don't plan on making a mess, I fail to see how it could bother me."

"Good. I'll unload and _then_ finish my list. Besides, I think I'm finally at the big stuff!"

I fail to see why the 'big stuff' has him so excited, but it doesn't matter. Hm, the magic on some of these pieces is distorted, almost compressed. This isn't age, nor is this decay. This is more as if some external pressure acted on and displaced the magical fields from their proper places... That explains the tattered feel to the lantern's magics; the magic _is_ tattered from trying to maintain itself under intense pressure.

I've seen this effect before. While I was at the Academy, someone somewhere made a mistake and one of our experimental and fully-charged magical batteries made its way into the same cabinet that housed some first-year enchanting students' projects. Every last one was ruined by the exposure to such a powerful magical charge.

And yet there is nothing on these tables with enough magic to do such a thing.

"Ralph, I don't suppose you know much about what is in our shipment, do you?" I doubt it, but it's still worth asking.

"Not much, really."

"Hm. I believe there's something rather magical in that crate. You might want to be careful."

Ralph turns to me and scowls. "Like what kind of magic is 'rather magical'? Are we talking be careful because it could do something weird or be careful because it could kill me?"

I slide my glasses off and set them on my notebook. As much as I'd like to mock him for being so quick to jump to conclusions, I can't entirely rule out the latter option. "I highly doubt it could kill you. I mean be careful in the sense of be careful that you don't inadvertently trigger something. There's something very magical in there."

He eyes the crate as if something in it is about to strike him. "Good to know."

Ah, right. Ralph doesn't have much of a magic sense. I always forget that detail. "If you find something that seems off to you, tell me. Otherwise, I'll deal with it myself."

"Uh-huh." He shakes his head. "But sure, anything weird is yours." He turns back to the crate and starts tossing more packing material onto the floor.

I stare down at my notes, not really looking at anything in particular. Why would something so magical be sharing space with these? And why wouldn't the people involved in loading these crates _notice?_

This situation just keeps getting more haphazard and absurd!

"Hey, Vael? I think you might be interested in this," Ralph says.

I slide my glasses on as I raise my head. "Oh?"

"Hang on." He leans into the crate far enough that, for a moment, I wonder if he's about to fall inside. Then he straightens, holding what looks to be a large vase. "Check _this_ out!"

The vase is rather large, standing half a man tall, widening towards the top and then tapering slightly as it curves towards the mouth. Its surface is dark gray and black in color, and it is sealed with some manner of cork or plug covered in a thick layer of bright red wax. There's something inside it, something that shifts and rattles as Ralph carries the vase over to an empty table.

The vase is also _very_ magical, no doubt the source of the distortion. I don't know how to categorize the magic I sense, either. It's gentle, almost warm, hardly the sort to cause damage, and yet there is a sharpness underlying it, a strange shrieking _clawing_ that makes the hair on the back of my neck rise and gives me the sensation of nails on a chalkboard. And then the sharpness vanishes, leaving only the gentle warmth and the echoing whispers of residual energy.

What _is_ that? Ralph doesn't even seem to notice, though he gives me an odd look at he sets the vase on the table. "Okay, wow, this thing is a lot heavier than it looks. What do you think? It's magical, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

He nods. "Thought so. And there's three more in the crate, too."

What? "Do they all look the same?" I walk over and peer into the crate. No, they don't. The three still nestled in the crate are different colors -- blue and white, green and brown and gold, red and copper -- and even with the packing materials in the way, I can see that each has a different design on its surface. The blue and white one has a hinged lid. The other two don't have any kind of visible cover or lid, though a small, tightly-wrapped form is tucked in beside the red and copper vase.

Ralph leans into the crate, looking very precarious again, and lifts out the green one, moving to set it on the same table as the gray vase. "Whew, this one's a _lot_ lighter."

"This one isn't sealed shut, either," I reply. Now that it's free of the crate and packing material, I can see the full design. The green vase is covered with trees, and several small, graceful figures, both human and animal, stand among the trunks.

I look back at the gray vase. No, this one doesn't have a detailed design or indeed much decoration at all. There is a bit of a gradient, black at the bottom fading to gray at the top, but that is the only ornamentation I see other than the red wax coating the cork. The gradient isn't entirely even or consistent; randomly placed lines and curves wrap around the surface, black on gray or gray on black.

Hm, no, there is something else here. There are curves etched into the surface of the vase, forming some kind of carving that I just can't quite discern. Is the carving obscured by age or by design? I reach out to brush any dust from the vase.

The sharpness to the vase's magic is back. I only sense it for a moment before the gentle warmth intensifies and washes away the sharpness, but in that brief instant, it seems to lash out towards me.

I feel pressure against my solar plexus; in response, the ache in my head becomes a pounding and my balance shifts abruptly. I have to sit down.

"Vael, you okay?" Ralph sounds concerned.

"It's only a headache," I say, though I'm not so certain of that. Something about that vase... "Could you hand me my notebook?"

"Huh? Oh, sure." Ralph hands me the notebook and then resumes unloading the crate. He leans in even further than earlier this time, and yet he still doesn't fall; he has much better balance than I thought he did.

Despite that, and despite my headache, I feel the need to say "You're going to fall."

"No, I'm not," he replies, his voice muffled by the crate. "I know exactly what I'm doing."

I highly doubt _that_. I could shove him inside with a quick shot of magic or even walk over there and shove him in with my hands, and he'd never see me coming. I have to smirk at the thought; it's the first pleasant one I've had today.

And I should really stop fantasizing about trapping Ralph in a crate and get back to work. The gray vase can wait. The green vase has only the lingering pieces of an old, weak enchantment, most likely a now-mostly-destroyed shatterproofing. The threads of magic are torn and stretched, leaving large gaps. I do note that the threads respond to my coaxing, so the enchantment isn't damaged beyond repair. It may even be able to mend itself if kept away from the source of damage.

Some of the other pieces probably won't be so fortunate. All I can do at this point is mitigate the damage. Do I have anything I can use as a makeshift shield? I drum my pen on my notebook while I think. No, I don't have anything large enough to cover a vase that size.

Perhaps I can move it? Distance would help, at least until I can cobble together a shield. I grit my teeth and lift the vase -- my vision flashes red and magic shrieks in my ears and the ceramic feels white-hot against my bare skin. The vase is _heavy_ , a massive weight dragging me down, and _something_ pulls greedily, _hungrily_ at my magic.

I drop the vase onto the tabletop and stumble back, falling against a counter. All of the sensations stop abruptly as soon as I release the vase, leaving me numb and my head pounding. I close my eyes and focus on breathing. I know that vase is magical -- magical enough that its mere presence damages any other nearby magical effects -- and yet for whatever asinine reason, I simply _touch it?_

What was I _thinking?!_

To be fair, however, I've never had something actually _attack me_ until now. Though why can Ralph move the vase if it...? Perhaps it's because I'm a mage? Or is this our respective magics clashing?

No matter. I need to be careful how I handle the vase, but I still need to do something about that aura. Lacking any other ideas, I claim some of the stray packing material and loosely wrap the vase. I feel no heat, nor do I hear or see anything unusual. I don't even feel any tugging at my magic. This packing material isn't thick enough or the right material to block magic, so clearly my magic and the vase's magic are coming into contact... I brace myself and tap one finger against the vase's base.

No reaction.

Hm. Something on the vase pulled at my magic a moment ago, and all of the other pieces I've examined have holes ripped in their fields... It's entirely plausible that the vase has accumulated bits and pieces of everything in the crate, and that amalgamation of magical detritus is what reacted to me when I first touched it.

I stare at the vase for a long while. There is so much magic in this room that it's all beginning to blur together, and that strange reaction the vase had to me isn't helping my headache at all. Whether that 'attack' is a fluke or not, the gray vase is magically damaging everything in its vicinity. I'm going to need an isolation room if I'm to do anything with that vase, and I know there isn't one in this building -- or, rather, there wasn’t one last week. Still, I could perhaps pull a few strings with my old instructors at the Academy and --

A loud, echoing metallic _clash_ yanks me from my thoughts. I jump at the sound, and the sharp noise or sudden motion or a combination of the two makes the pain in my head exponentially spike.

"What did you break?" I snap.

"Sorry! Nothing's broken! I just dropped a big tray."

I glare over at Ralph for a moment, not that he notices, until several dots of bright white flicker across my field of view. And now I'm getting a migraine, because today insists on getting worse.

"Oh, right... you had a headache before, and then I... yeah, sorry. You going to be all right?"

"You're not the only thing to blame for this," I say, carefully standing up and packing my things. "I need to get away from this magic for a while; if you or anyone else needs me, I'll be in my office." Admitting this should bother me more. Hm, perhaps the sympathy helps.

"Okay. I should be down here the rest of the day. Just knock and I'll let you back in."

I nod weakly in acknowledgment, but I already know I won't be returning today.

Yes, this is definitely a migraine. Students' voices echo in the stairwell, far louder than they should be. When I reach my floor and step out into the hallway, the sunlight coming through the windows is so bright that one flash of it is enough to create a dagger of pain stabbing just behind my right eye. I cringe at the pain and squint at the light, and I can't properly open my eyes again until I'm in my office with the blinds tightly shut and the door locked.

I fall onto the large padded leather chair in the corner and make myself comfortable. The only way I know to truly ease a migraine is to sleep it off, and my well-worn chair is _much_ more comfortable than the stools in the basement. The room is dark, and the second floor tends to be quiet. I close my eyes.

When I open them again, my migraine is nothing but a dull ache, and my neck is slightly stiff. How long have I been asleep?

My watch says it's after three, though I don't know what time it was when I came up here. No matter; my head feels better. I shift position and idly toy with the gash on the armrest.

I need to give Historian Chambers a copy of my notes, such as they are. I want to just stay here and lounge in my chair; considering how my luck has been today, walking will probably just invite the migraine to return. And yet, if I don't hand these over soon, someone will be knocking at my door asking about them, and _that_ won't be good for my head, either. I shake my head. Best to do this quickly. I copy my notes so that they're more legible, making a point to mention that the gray vase's magics have damaged the rest of the crate and that the vase needs to be kept well away from everything else.

When I reach Historian Chambers' office, I find it locked and empty. I lean against the wall by the door and stare up at the ceiling. Ralph is no doubt still down in the basement, just as he said, but I'm in no mood to go all the way downstairs to either give him my notes to hand off to his uncle or borrow the key and walk all the way back up here. Sliding the pages under the door won't work; the last time I tried _that_ , every last page vanished without a trace.

The simplest solution is to remove the middleman entirely. I glance down the hallway; no, I'm still the only one here. Good. I rest my fingers on the lock, close my eyes, and gently probe the tumblers with my magic. It's a more basic lock than I expected, honestly. The ones in the Academy Archive are far more complex than this, so it shouldn't take long at all...

I feel the tumblers click into place and then realize I hear footsteps approaching.

"You're still here? I thought you'd left," Ralph says.

I open my eyes and step away from the door, nonchalantly letting my hand fall back to my side. "I've been in my office, just as I said. Have you seen Historian Chambers recently?"

He rolls his eyes. "He just left. He said something about meeting with the Vault caretakers about our shipment. At least he's not yelling at me about paperwork. Anyway, did you need him for something?"

I hold up the neatly-clipped-together stack of notes. "I'd just like to hand these over."

"Good timing. I was just bringing the new shipping manifest up here. We should probably keep everything for that crate together."

"That's probably best." Especially if we don't get any official documentation. "Have you learned anything new?"

"About the shipment? Nothing." Ralph pulls out his keys and unlocks the door, apparently not noticing that it's already unlocked. "All of this paperwork can just go right on his desk so hopefully it won't walk off." He takes my notes and places both sets of paperwork in a neat stack in the center of the desk. "There. Now both of us know they're there."

I nod. "Should it walk off, I can make another copy. I kept my original."

"Good to know. We _should_ be okay, though. I'll call him later so he knows he has papers waiting for him."

"Now that that's taken care of, I believe I'll be going," I say, stepping back out into the hall.

"Okay. See you later."

It's almost four. If I leave now, I can get home before the buses start filling with the evening crowd. Today has been long enough.

\---

"You're heavier than I thought you'd be, you know that? You weren't this heavy when you were drunk, so either you were supporting yourself better than I thought, or your little friend is stronger than he looks."

I don't know why I'm talking to Link. I know he can't hear me; he's still passed out. Maybe it's because I'm used to carrying him like this when he's hurt or exhausted, not _unconscious_. I'm used to him being able to answer me.

And maybe I just want a distraction. I want out of this damned ruin, and it's taking longer than it needs to because of all the weight. I stop long enough to shift him higher on my back. "You'd better not make a habit out of this. Oh, and for the record, this is why I didn't bring my shield. It'd just be in the way."

I keep walking. I guess I should apologize to him for testing him like that... but it was the him before who wanted me to do this. I'm sure Link will understand. He seems to understand just how important the Master Sword is, so I don't think he's mad at me for it.

And even if he is, I say that damned lightning makes us even. Really could've lived without that. I'm still numb from it.

I round a corner and see sunlight. Oh, _finally_. We're almost out of here.

"See?" I say. "I told you I knew the way out."

Getting him out takes some doing since the passageway is too small to carry him through. Instead I have to sit him against the wall while I go ahead with his gear. It's after sunset by the time I step outside. Damn, that took a _lot_ longer than I wanted it to take. I growl and duck back through the passageway to get Link, working him through the corridor beside me.

And then, after way too long, we're both outside. I ease him down into a sit, leaning him back against the side of the Palace, and sit beside him. I'm really tired now.

How much longer is he going to sleep? Shouldn't he be awake by now?

I hear a clatter from our campsite, followed by a snort. I narrow my eyes. What is _that?_

"You stay here, Link," I say quietly, rising to my feet and peering around the corner.

Several monsters are poking around our campsite. A Goriya pokes Link's motorcycle with one end of a boomerang. A Lizalfos examines my helmet, while two others root through our saddlebags, scattering our gear all around. A Moblin stands by the bedrolls, glancing nervously around like it's expecting something to jump out at it.

Since when do these stupid monsters come in here? Nothing came in here when I was here before, but they're here now, pawing through our gear like they're looking for hidden treasure!

 _Assholes._ I bet they think we're dead. It's because we didn't make it out before sunset, isn't it? They think we're dead, and they're more greedy than scared.

Time to make these assholes more scared than greedy.

I slide easily into the shadows and head for the monsters, snarling "Are we having fun?"

The monsters snap their heads up and start frantically looking for me. One of the Lizalfos stares right through me, but of course it can't see a shadow. The Moblin clutches its spear close.

"Who there?" the Goriya snaps.

"Did you really think you could just walk in here and take what you wanted? Drop everything you picked up and go tell your leaders this place is still full of nastier things than you."

"Or what?"

I smirk, not that they can see. I bet they can hear it in my voice, though. "Or I kill you all."

They ready their weapons, except the Moblin, who just shudders. Oh, just _do something_ already. I'm already tired and sore, and I just want to flop down next to Link and sleep for a while. I'm really not in the mood to deal with some dumbass monsters. That said, I won't turn down the chance to kill something.

Killing something always makes me feel better.

"Not afraid of you!" the Goriya snaps.

"You should be." I draw my sword. "This is your last chance. Drop what you took and _leave_ , or you die."

The Goriya growls and hurls its boomerang at my voice. I dodge out of the way even though the boomerang can't hurt me, step out of the shadows, and lunge at it blade first. It doesn't see me until it's too late; my sword sinks deep into its gut.

It screams and claws at me. I yank my sword free and step back.

I hear a shriek and snap my head towards the sound. The Moblin runs for the mouth of the canyon, screaming all the way. I don't bother chasing it. Instead, I flick my blade to shake off the Goriya's blood.

The Goriya itself is down on its knees, clutching at its stomach and gurgling feebly as it bleeds out. The three Lizalfos watch it for a moment and then raise their weapons. This is fine. The Moblin I don't give a damn about because it hasn't _done_ anything. _These_ assholes, on the other hand, got their dirty claws all over our gear. My helmet better not smell like lizard, or I'll figure out a way to kill these things _twice_.

Right now, though, they're not doing a damned thing except trying to look intimidating. It's not working, but it _is_ pissing me off. What do they think they're going to do? The only threat they really pose is to Link, and most of that is because he's unconscious. But that doesn't matter, since I'm between him and them, and they're so damned stupid they probably don't even realize he's here.

The Goriya makes one final choking sound and falls forward onto the ground. It twitches, and then it goes limp. Smoke rises into the air as the body dissolves, leaving nothing but the boomerang.

I look at the three Lizalfos. "If you're going to do something, then just do it already."

"You not order us!"

"Tch, I already _have_." Do something! Attack me! I'm trying to not charge them, not because I'm afraid of them. They can't kill me, but they can hurt me -- and I still have to deal with Link until he wakes up.

The three Lizalfos look at each other and then back to me, fidgeting with their weapons.

Okay, that does it. I am _not in the mood_ to deal with this shit. I charge.

I slam my knee into the first Lizalfos' chest. When it staggers back, I turn to the left and slash at the second, splitting its chest and shoulder open. I don't watch it fall. Instead, I snap my free arm to the right, awkwardly deflecting the spear being thrust at me, and then twist and redirect my sword into another slash. My blade catches the third Lizalfos in the neck. It immediately begins to choke on its own blood.

I hear motion and dodge out of the way -- but only _almost_. A spearhead slices across my cheek and ear, closer to my eye than I'm comfortable with. The spearhead scrapes across my upper arm as it pulls back, splitting open the sleeve of my jacket and stabbing into my arm. I have to twist again to get the point free.

 _Shit_ , that hurts, and it's my sword arm! The Lizalfos thrusts its spear at me again, but this time I dodge. I punch it in its hideous face with my free hand and laugh when it staggers back again. I don't give it time to recover, punching it again and then kicking it down onto its back.

It claws at the ground and tries to push itself up with its spear. It can struggle all it wants, but struggling won't change _anything_. I yank my knife out of my jacket and slam the blade into the Lizalfos' chest again and again until the damned thing is in _pieces_ and those pieces are melting into gray-black smoke.

That's what you _deserve, assholes_. I stumble up to my feet and look around at our campsite. Our gear is still strewn around. The bedrolls are a _mess;_ I think the Moblin trampled them as it fled for its life. Now I'm bleeding and even _more_ tired and sore than I was before.

I drop my sword and knife and groan loudly. Why does this have to be so _complicated?_ All I want to do is rest now that Link has his sword. I don't see the Moblin anymore; good. Hopefully it's telling everything that will listen about me.

Stupid damned monsters. I'm going to remember this. If they have _any_ sense at all, they'll piss off.

Until then, Link needs a better place to sleep than against the wall. I straighten out his bedroll, making sure it's well away from the smoking pieces of monster, and then I go find him. It's not hard. He hasn't moved. I heft him up onto my back again and carry him to his bedroll. I sit him down, awkwardly, and turn in place so he's leaning forward against me. I could just stay like this, but I shouldn't. I've put him through enough the last couple of days; I should be easy on him for a while. Link makes a low noise in his throat when I slide the straps for his bow case and bag off of his shoulders.

No, he's not waking up. Maybe he's dreaming. Or maybe he's just protesting all the motion. Yeah, yeah, I'll be done in a moment. If I don't get this off of him, he won't be able to get comfortable.

I pull my bandanna off of his face. He looks so peaceful. The cut on his cheek isn't very deep, either, just a scratch. I yank his bag closer so I can dig out water and another piece of cloth and wash the cut. Okay, I admit it; it's an excuse to touch his face.

I want to kiss him. I want to hold him close and not let go. I want to take that sword, polish it, and use it hack down anything and everything that gets in our way.

I know it's going to be rough from here on out, Link, but I'm here, okay?

My hand finds the buckle on his baldric and stays there. A baldric strapped over an armored riding jacket. It's such a weird contrast, but it's also so fitting. He's more armored riding his motorcycle than any of his earlier selves ever were while fighting Pigman.

I toy with the buckle for a moment. I really should take it off of him. He's not going to be able to sleep comfortably with his sword on his back. But this is my first chance to really see what he looks like with his sword, because earlier I just wanted out of the Great Palace. It's funny. The sword on his back looks both completely out of place and perfectly right.

Hah, listen to me. I'm sitting here being all poetic about Link and his sword, and he's passed out and I'm bleeding and monster bits are melting away nearby. Thrice, isn't this a sight?

I unbuckle the baldric and ease it off of him. The scabbard looks too big for him, and right now, I bet it is. He's no swordsman, not yet. I'll have to teach him how to use this.

Never had to teach him how to use his sword before. This should be amusing.

There, the Master Sword can sit right next to his bedroll. I'm probably going to have to explain where the scabbard and baldric came from, aren't I? I wonder if he's going to believe me when I say they appeared around him when he drew the Master Sword.

I laugh. No, he probably won't. I work off his jacket and lay him on his bedroll, trying to make him comfortable.

Then I shake my head and slide off my jacket. Yeah, that spearhead did a number on my arm. I should probably bandage it. Which makes me think: where are my bandages? They _were_ in my saddlebags, but after those Lizalfos...

They're over by Link's motorcycle. The case is dented on one side, but at least it's still closed. Good. I'm not using bandages covered in Lizalfos filth. I open the case and --

Damn it, damn it, _damn it!_ Whatever dented the case also broke the vial of potion I had in here! The bandages are all soaked with red potion. Worthless _assholes!_ I _knew_ I should've brought spares with me!

I think I can work with this. Hopefully. We got in here without either of us getting hurt, so we should be able to get _out_ without getting hurt. As long as the monsters don't get any ideas about us being a threat and trying to overwhelm that threat with sheer strength of numbers, we should be fine.

We should leave tomorrow. I mean, it's not like we have any reason to stay at this point. We went in. I tested Link. Link got the Master Sword. Our business here is done. The only reason I have to stay right now is Link. Even if he wakes up right now, I'm not going to ask him to make that drive at night.

I take off my shirt so I can clean and bandage my arm, using the bandages with the least amount of potion on them. We should be fine, but I still want to save as much as I can for Link, just in case. Once my arm is bandaged, I scowl down at the holes in my shirt and jacket. I just fixed the damned jacket yesterday, even, and it's _already_ torn again.

I need my sewing kit. No, first I need to _find_ my sewing kit. I groan loudly and stand up. And now I get to clean up a giant mess I didn't make in the first damned place. _Fine_. I start picking up our gear and repacking our saddlebags, sticking the boomerang in my jacket because who knows, it might be useful.

Why is Link still asleep? It's been _hours_ at this point. He should be awake by now. Claiming the Master Sword has never made him pass out before, as far as I know, so why this time? Is it because of all the stress? Is it because of the fight? Is it because Hyrule isn't in danger yet?

Damn. I don't know how Link packs his saddlebags. I'll just have to do it my way. He can fix it later.

Is he just not ready?

No, he has to be ready. I _know_ he has the hero's spirit. He's my source. He's my Link. If the sword rejected him, it never would've left the pedestal. I'm just freaking out because he's still unconscious.

There. Everything that needs to be put away is put away. I sit down beside the bedrolls and set up Link's little camp stove. I'm hungry, and I know Link's going to be when he wakes up. I happened to find a bag of soup mix while repacking, so I'm going to make it. It doesn't take a lot of effort to make, but it's warm.

Besides, maybe the smell of food cooking will wake him up.

I move back to my bedroll and open my sewing kit. I'm not fixing my jacket two nights in a row, but I do fix my shirt and pull it back on.

The monsters are quiet tonight. I don't hear them, and when I watch the mouth of the canyon while stirring the soup, I don't see them, either. I hope this means they're keeping their distance. I really don't want to deal with more of them tonight.

That reminds me... I open Link's bow case. Ah, yeah, I thought so; his bow has a crack above the grip and possibly one below the grip, too. It's broken. I wasn't expecting him to use his bow to block, but then he didn't really have anything else to block _with._ Still, I thought he'd jump out of the way or something.

Guess this means I owe him a bow. I really doubt anyone'll be able to fix that. Does he have another one at home, or did we just break his main means of defending himself? I really need to get the answer to that before we do any more trips to monster-infested places. Not that I see us doing any of that for a bit. I've messed with his head enough for a while.

I close his bow case and set it aside. He has the Master Sword now. If _this_ isn't enough proof for him, then I surrender right damned now. I can't top this.

I hear something shift nearby, and then I hear Link's voice, heavy with sleep. "How did we get out here?"

"I was worried you weren't going to wake up." I turn and give him a nervous grin, even though I really want to tackle him and not let go. "I carried you out here after you passed out. You spent the whole time sleeping like you were dead." I think I'll leave out the part with the Lizalfos and the mess they made.

"Sorry I made you worry." He sits up and looks around. "What happened?"

"Isn't it obvious? You drew the Master Sword, and then you passed out. Then I hauled you back out here."

"There was something else, though..." He stares at the little flame from the camp stove, his brow furrowed in thought. "Voices and noises and... I think I saw you, and there were people I don't recognize, and I saw a guy with a pig's face. It was really weird, and it didn't make sense."

I tense. A man with a pig's face? There's only one person _that_ could be. "How much do you remember?"

"That's all of it. It was disjointed, like I was listening to one thing while watching another. At one point, I think I was missing a hand, but I don't know why. I was watching myself, if that makes sense."

Heroes dream of the future sometimes. Is that what he's talking about, or is this just some weird dream? How am I supposed to tell the difference, anyway? I've always just gone by what Link considers noteworthy, but I don't know what this Link's dreams are normally like.

I shrug. "Dreams can be weird sometimes."

"I don't need any more weird dreams," he says, wrapping his arms around his knees. "I've been having too many of those."

"Would it help to talk about them?"

"I don't know." Link doesn't say anything for a moment, so I turn my attention back to the soup. It's almost finished.

"You keep showing up," he says finally.

"Me?" I want to be flattered, but... well, this wouldn't be the first time dreams of me are more like nightmares. He doesn't sound scared, though, just confused. "What am I doing in your dreams?"

"You're just kind of _there_. I think we're traveling together. At least, I think it's you. In the dream, I know it's you, but you don't look like _you_."

"Then how do you know it's me?"

He sighs. "I don't know. You look completely different -- well, no, not _completely._ You still have black hair and red eyes and dark skin, even though you look different. And I keep calling you by name in my dreams, so it has to be you."

I laugh. Sounds like dream logic to me. "Do _you_ look like yourself in your dreams?"

"I don't see my reflection, so I'm not sure. My hair's different. We're both dressed like something out of an old painting. But you still call me Link, so..." He shakes his head, still staring at the flame of the stove. "It's weird. It feels like I'm still me, but I'm _not_ still me. If that makes any sense."

"It bothers you."

"Yes. Yes, it does. Why do I keep having all of these dreams? I can't even remember enough of them to tell you what they're about, but they bother me! I've been dreaming of you ever since we met, and I... How am I supposed to feel about all of this? You've been following me around since we met, if not longer. You're not even _human_. You keep making all of these outlandish claims and convincing me to come out to horribly dangerous places in the middle of nowhere..."

He closes his eyes and lowers his head. "And I keep trusting you. Why do I keep trusting you?"

Probably because I'm his shadow. He seems to trust me a lot quicker than he should, though it's really hard to tell how much is because some tiny part of him recognizes me for what I am and how much is because he's _Link_ and he's always so _trusting_.

"I've done what I said, haven't I?" I ask, looking away.

"Yes, you have. It's just that..." He shifts position and then sucks in a quick breath.

"You okay over there?" Is he hurt? Shit, don't tell me he pulled something.

When I turn to look at him again, he's still sitting on his bedroll, but now he has the Master Sword, still in its scabbard, resting across his lap. He stares down at it like he's expecting it to vanish at any second.

"Is this... _real_?" his voice is soft, reverent, and pained.

"Of course it is. It's _all_ real." I know that's probably not the most comforting thing to say, but whatever. It's _true,_ and right now, I really don't know a better way to put it. "That's your sword."

"My sword?" Link gently rests his hands on the scabbard and raises his head, looking somewhere off in the distance. "It looks so fragile, like it will break if I drop it. I can't use this." And then he flinches and his shoulders slump and he forces out a wry laugh. "Then again, it's not like I know how to use a sword at all."

"It's not fragile. It's just sleeping. Think about it. If your co-workers saw that sword with no explanation, would they think it's anything special? Or would this just be another well-made, ancient sword?"

"I know they wouldn't think it's the holy blade of evil's bane," he replies. "I guess that's the point, isn't it? Does it always do this? Did it always look this damaged when the heroes found it?"

I shrug. "Don't really know. Usually you already have the sword and are actively _using it_ when we meet. It's been asleep for a long time, and it hasn't woken up yet, so it looks old. I think that's how it works, anyway. Sometimes it must fix itself, but sometimes we've had to do it ourselves."

"What are you talking about?" Link stares at me, his eyes wide. "How can anyone fix a holy blade?"

"It's been tempered more than once that I know of. As for how, well, how should I know? I don't know a damned thing about _making_ weapons. I just know how to use and maintain them." Seriously, what about me makes him think I know smithing? "Maybe the smiths were able to temper it because it wanted to be. It's not _my_ sword."

He scowls. "Can you even touch it?"

Really? I raise an eyebrow and give him my best unimpressed look. "How do you think it got in that scabbard in the first place? Yes, I can touch it. I've wielded it before." And just to illustrate my point, I lean over and put my hand on the hilt.

He doesn't say anything. He just stares down first at my hand and then at the sword.

I check the soup again -- oh, hey, it's finally ready. "Hungry? The soup's finished."

He stares over at the stove. "Is that what you're doing?"

"What else would I be doing with a camp stove? Tch, it's like you think I can't take care of myself."

"I didn't say that." Link shifts position again, holding the Master Sword against his chest and moving closer. "I'm just surprised, I guess. You're a shadow, but you eat."

"Yes, I _eat_." Sure, I don't need it to survive, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy human food. Besides, it tastes good. Well, the stuff I actually bother eating, anyway. "Besides, I figured you'd wake up hungry. Am I right?"

He looks embarrassed at that, lowering his head like he's trying to hide the blush coloring his face. "I am, yes."

"Then get yourself some food." I give him a grin. Oh, right. The only lights are from the sky and the stove. "Need me to turn on your lantern?"

"Yes, please."

I do that, turning away from the light. Damn, even the lowest setting is bright enough to hurt. Once I can see again, I watch him eat with the Master Sword across his lap. "So, if I can go back to your dreams for a moment, what was that about a man with a pig's face?"

Link furrows his brow in thought again, though he also pales at the question. "I don't really know. Like I said, I saw all these flashes of people, and... one of them was a tall man in a long robe, and he had a pig's face or maybe a pig's _head_. That's all I can remember."

"Ah." Damn. So much for a prophetic dream, then. Last I checked, Ganon is whatever's left of a bunch of scattered ashes. He's gone. Right? Besides, if he comes back, he can just eat the Master Sword _again_.

I get some soup for myself and start eating. It's not the best, but I can't really complain considering all I did was add water and heat it up. It's food.

Link keeps staring down at his sword, clearly lost in thought.

I finish my soup and then lean back to look up at the stars. It's a nice night, really. Makes me wish I had my flute. Eh, whatever. If it had been in my saddlebag, those stupid damned Lizalfos might have broken it, and if that had happened, I'd be in the middle of slaughtering everything with scales in the vicinity.

I start humming to myself. It starts off as just some random little thing and ends up shifting from one song to another, getting older and older as I go. The Master Sword always makes me think of all kinds of old things. Old places, old enemies, old songs, old faces...

"Dark, what song is that?"

Huh? It takes a minute to match the name to the melody. "It's called the Nocturne of Shadow. It's a really old song."

"I think I've heard that one before."

"Maybe you have." Another memory, maybe? He remembered the rocks, and I have to wonder if his weird dreams are memories, too. Maybe even the man with the pig face is a memory. How much _does_ he remember? I never really know.

"Maybe so." He sounds a little confused, but he doesn't say anything else. I don't feel like asking any questions right now, so I don't either.

I consider going back to humming, but before I can, Link starts humming something. It's disjointed at first, a few scattered notes here and there, like he's trying to remember the tune.

I look over at him. He's just sitting there by the stove and lantern, his empty cup beside him, the Master Sword still across his lap. He has his eyes closed, and his head leaned back ever-so-slightly. His fingers tap the scabbard in his lap as he hums.

I grin and chuckle to myself, and then I lay on my bedroll. He's awake, and he's eaten, and now he's humming something. This is good.

"Are you going to sleep?" he asks.

"Eh, I might. I stayed awake to keep an eye on you, so I'm kind of tired."

"Sorry," he says.

"Don't worry about it. You're awake now. I doubt you'll be tired for a while, so I'll just leave you to whatever you're going to do." I doubt he'll be up to much. He's probably just going to sit there and _think_. "And don't worry about the humming, either. It's not bothering me."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." I get comfy and close my eyes. "Goodnight, Link."

"Okay, then. Goodnight." He goes back to humming, though he's being quieter now.

After several tries, he seems to finally remember the tune, and he starts humming the full song. Now I recognize it -- and now I _know_ he's remembering things, because I haven't heard anyone play that song in _lifetimes_. That song is old enough that I'm amazed _I_ still remember it.

I laugh. I can't help myself, because it's been _so long_ since I've heard this song and it means that something of _him_ is still here and if I wasn't so tired right now I'd grab him and just not let go for several hours.

"Dark?"

Does he even know? Thrice, he's humming a song _that ancient_ and doesn't even realize he's doing it, does he?

"I haven't heard that song in a _long_ time," I say.

"Do you remember what it's called?" He stops humming now, waiting for an answer.

"It's called the Song of Time."

"The Song of Time?" He sounds confused, and yet he sounds like he recognizes the name at the same time.

I smile to myself. "You can keep humming it if you want. I like it."

"All right." And he does.

 


	9. Chapter 8

I have lost my mind.

What other explanation _is_ there for what I'm _doing?_ I'm sitting here with an ancient artifact in my lap, and I'm humming a song that I've never heard before and yet part of me knows almost as well as my own name. There's a _power_ to the song, a strange echoing _resonance_ that seems to fill every part of my being with its sound even though I'm just humming.

Dark calls it the Song of Time. The name seems fitting; the song just feels ancient. Or maybe it's not the song that's ancient. Maybe it's this place or this sword or Dark or all three.

Maybe it's just me. The whispering is back, and it's louder than before. I can't make out words, but I'm more convinced than ever that there _are_ words. I hear someone speaking, even though there's no one here.

I look down at the sword in my lap. Even the sheath is brittle with age and its leather cracked. An ornate pattern is stamped along it from one end to the other, and both ends are decorated with tarnished metal. The baldric is every bit as worn as the sheath, though both look better than the sword itself.

Dark snores. I still don't understand why or how a shadow can sleep, but I guess everything needs to rest at some point. He _did_ carry me all the way out. That's a long walk _without_ the extra weight.

I owe him for that. I really do.

I wander over to the Great Palace, carrying the Hero's Blade and my lantern with me, and lean against one of the broken columns. I don't know why, but this is comforting. The whispering in my head shifts, almost like it's changing into a different voice. What is it trying to tell me?

This is surreal. I'm a historian. I work with old languages and fragmentary legends and folktales, not things like whispering not-quite-voices and shadows who act like people and sacred weapons. I'm supposed to work with facts, not things like intuition and dreams!

I draw the sword. What do I do with this sword now that I have it? It's the Hero's Blade, possibly the single most well-known thing in all of Hyrulean history other than the Triforce itself. Every time I see it in my visions -- memories? I don't know if I'm ready to admit that's what they are -- it's this mighty, gleaming, obviously magical blade, a far cry from this time-worn thing.

How can the blade of evil's bane _corrode?_

I brush the flat of the blade with my hand; my ragged glove knocks off a few loose pieces of accumulated filth, or perhaps it's more that the rough surface of the blade breaks off pieces of my damaged glove. Maybe I can clean the blade? I can take it into work and use our tools to clean it off, and if anyone sees me, it'll look like I'm just working on another weapon. We clean swords here and there. Our focus is Hyrule's history, and that includes a lot of military history on top of all of the legends.

No, that won't work. I look down at the sword in my hands and shake my head. I don't normally clean weapons, so if someone saw me cleaning this, they would rightly wonder why. It would just raise questions that I can't answer. Even if I tell them, even if Chambers believes me, what will it accomplish? He'll want to take it and catalog it and either store it somewhere safe and secure or put it on display.

He'll take it from me, just like that. Because, to him, it's an ancient sword. A fascinating one with an important history, but ultimately, it's nothing more than a relic.

My hand tightens around the hilt; I pull the blade against my chest. I do understand why he'd think that. That's what _anyone_ would think in this situation. I even told Dark the same thing, didn't I? I think I did. That feels so long ago now, even though it couldn't have been more than a week.

I don't think that anymore. This is the Hero's Blade, yes, but it's so much _more_ than just a historical artifact. This is the Master Sword. This is _my_ sword. I have to be the one who guards it, because its power will be needed.

What do I do now? I'm at the Great Palace, the place that once held the Triforce of Courage, holding the very sword that has saved Hyrule time and time again, and I can't tell anyone about this place. I can't tell them I was inside the old graveyard. I can't even tell them about Dark's tools, like the bracelet or the Lens of Truth. It all combines to form this gigantic secret that I have to keep hidden.

Dark says the Master Sword will be needed. If he's right, then Hyrule is going to be in danger soon. People will be hurt, and people may even _die_. If I _am_ the hero, then I'm the only one who can stop it. But that means I need to fight, and I'm a linguist and historian, not a warrior! How am I supposed to protect anyone with a sword I don't even know how to use?

I lean my head back against the column and close my eyes. Am I _really_ the hero? Can I really do this? Farore help me, I don't think I can.

Dark seems to think I can, but is he thinking of _me_ or of who I apparently was in a prior life? Even if I do somehow have a piece of the hero inside me, that doesn't make me a hero. Does it?

I need to stop thinking about this, though I don't know what else to think about. I don't want to think about the drive in or out.

Those weird dreams I keep having... They aren't really dreams, are they? They're _memories_. The dreams, the ache in my shoulder last night, the song just a bit ago... None of these are things I know, and yet, somehow, I remember them.

Not just those, either. I remember what the Master Sword looks like when it's not covered in age and debris. I remember what this place looked like before the years took their toll. Why do I remember these things? _How?_

I hear the whispering again. Or maybe I never stopped hearing it, and it's louder now?

What happened to the monsters? There were monsters in the canyon last night. They were still there this morning. Are they still there?

I climb to my feet and buckle the Master Sword into place across my back. The weight is reassuring; I feel more balanced with it hanging behind me. Then I clip my lantern to my belt and start walking around the Great Palace. Nothing is in this valley except for the two of us. That's good to know.

I walk until I can see the mouth of the canyon. I hear motion in the distance from the direction of the canyon, but I don't see anything. It sounds too far away to be a threat, at least for the moment, though I can't shake the thought that something out there is trying to sneak up on me. I turn off the lantern so my eyes can readjust to the dark.

The motion in the distance continues for the rest of the night, though I never see anything moving about, nor does the sound ever get closer. My legs start to ache, so I return to the campsite and sit on my bedroll. I'm just going to sit here a while and rest my legs while trying not to dwell on anything in particular. I don't want to think anymore. I just want to rest my legs and my eyes for a few minutes.

Metal clangs; I open my eyes. When did I lay down? And when did the sun rise? The sun is visible over the mountains, so I've been asleep for several hours.

"You're awake. Good. Drink this." Dark holds one of my canteens towards me.

It takes me at least a minute to recognize it. Once I do, I sit up and take it. "What is it?"

"What do you think? It's water."

Is it really? I open my canteen and sniff, but I don't smell anything. Must just be water. I didn't realize how thirsty I was until now; I drink everything in the canteen.

"Thought you'd need that." Dark sighs. "We're almost out of water."

Whether or not that's a problem depends entirely on how much longer he plans on staying out here. "Is there anything else we need to do while we're here?"

He shrugs. "Not really? You wanted to see the Master Sword, so here we are. And since you can take it with you, we can leave whenever. Y'know, unless you want to look around in there some more."

I'm curious, but... No, I'm not _that_ curious. I don't want to risk getting lost in there, and I think those nearly-endless corridors are going to haunt my dreams _enough_ without seeing them again. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? It's a historical site." He grins at me.

"You don't want anyone cataloging or mapping the place, remember?"

"You're the exception."

I shake my head. "I don't want to think about that too much, Dark."

"You've been doing a lot of that, haven't you?"

Is it that obvious? "Yes, I have. Can you blame me? It's like..." I throw up my hands; how do I phrase this so that he understands? "Everything's changed now. I don't even feel like I'm the same person I was before. This is all so... mind-boggling, bizarre, surreal. Take your pick. This doesn't even feel real."

"But it _is_ real."

"I know it is. I _know_." He doesn't understand. Then again, maybe I shouldn't expect him to understand. If he's the hero's shadow, then that means all of this is _normal_ to him. Does he even understand why it bothers me? _Can_ he even understand? "I just don't know what to do now. I have to be back at work next week. Am I supposed to just pretend that none of this happened? Am I supposed to just go back to my usual routine, only with a sacred artifact waiting at my apartment and the knowledge that at some point I'm going to have to fight to protect Hyrule looming over me?!"

He at least has the decency to _flinch_ at that. "Sorry." He looks down, first away from me, but then he sweeps his gaze over to the Master Sword. "I know this isn't easy. This is why I kept asking you if you were sure you wanted to come here. You have time to come to terms with this, Link. I don't know how much, but you have time. Hyrule doesn't need her hero yet. I don't know what to tell you to do, but..." He shrugs. "I know things are different now, but you're not alone. I'm here, and I'm willing to help you."

How is he supposed to help me? I mean, yes, if nothing else, he's someone I can talk to about this, but talking only gets me so far. "I just don't know if I can do this."

Dark puts his hand on my shoulder. I look down at it but don't shake it away; right now, it's less annoyance and more reminder that I'm not completely alone in this.

"It's all right, Link. That's what I'm here for."

"What are you talking about?"

He grins at me. "I can't help you go back to your usual routine, but I _can_ teach you how to use that sword."

That _is_ helpful, actually. "You mean teaching me swordplay?"

His grin gets broader. "Exactly! I'll teach you the basics. We can even spar for practice. And then I can show you exactly how to handle your sword."

I nod. If I need to use the Master Sword, then I need to know how to use it. And he knows what kinds of things a hero needs to know, unlike anyone else who could train me. "You'll be discreet about this, right? I don't want just anyone to know about this. It'd just raise a lot of questions."

"Oh, don't worry. These will be _private_ lessons. Just you and me. Unless you want to invite your friend."

Does he mean Vael? "I don't think Vael cares about weapons. He's a mage."

"He is? Huh. That explains a few things."

I frown at him. What is he talking about? "You've been stalking me."

"I'm not stalking you. I'm a student, remember? I keep seeing you on campus, and he's with you a lot of the time. You two spend a lot of time together, don't you?"

"We're friends, and we work together. Of course you see us together on campus a lot. We eat lunch at the same time."

Dark just grins at me. How much does he _know?_ It seems like he knows more than he should, but _how?_ I haven't even told Vael how I feel, so there's no way Dark could know. Is there?

Dark laughs. "Anyway, we got pretty distracted there. I was asking if you wanted to do anything here, because I'm done. So if you're done here, too, we can get going. Which brings me to my next question: how do you want to spend the rest of your vacation?"

I sigh. "We have to get through that canyon first." If we can make it through without being killed, then my priorities are warm food, cold water, a hot shower, and a comfortable bed, not necessarily in that order. But first, we have to make it through that gauntlet alive.

"We got in, didn't we? But fine, you can answer me later."

"Yes, but I think that ride took a couple of years off my life, and now I have to do it again. It's kind of hard to think past that."

He shakes his head. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. So how about we load up and get it done so you can focus on better things?"

I don't want to, but at the same time, I want out of here. I try not to cringe. "All right."

Let's just get this over with before I lose what little of my nerve is left

A few monsters are just inside the mouth of the canyon, but they take one look at us and run, scrambling for cover. What has them so scared? Is it because we went into the Great Palace and came out? Can they somehow recognize the Master Sword from a distance and are too scared of it to attack?

I don't understand. They should be chasing us. They should be trying to _kill_ us. But they aren't doing anything.

The monsters at the mouth of the canyon are the only monsters I see during the entire ride. If there are any other monsters here, they stay out of sight.

That doesn't keep me from expecting a spear in my back the entire ride. I keep scanning the canyon and the walls, expecting to see some kind of monster preparing to attack. We aren't driving as fast this time, so Dark's motorcycle isn't kicking up as much dust. It doesn't matter; there's nothing to see except the canyon. I try my best to focus on driving, but I just can't shake the feeling that there are monsters here, watching us pass from their perches along the canyon walls.

And then _finally_ , after what feels like _hours_ , we reach the other end of the canyon. We walk our bikes through one last cavern, and then we're out.

"What was that about?" I have to ask. "What happened to all of the monsters?"

"Tch, like I care? My guess is something scared them off. They're monsters; they're skittish."

I should be grateful, shouldn't I? I didn't have to dodge spears all the way; that's a good thing. I'm overthinking this.

"So what do we do now?" Dark asks, climbing leisurely back onto his motorcycle and stretching. "You've still got most of your vacation left, right?"

"Most of it, yes. I'll probably need it to recover from all of that. Where do I go from here, Dark?"

"I vote we go to Waypoint and rent a room."

"That's not what I meant!" Though I'm not going to reject that thought. "I meant about the Master Sword. What do I do now? Am I supposed to wake it up? Will it wake up on its own?"

"I don't have a clue." He smacks a fist into his other palm. "By the time I meet Link, he has the Master Sword, and it's awake. We've taken it in to be tempered or whatnot, but I've never once seen him wake it up. So I don't know how it's done. I assume that it'll wake up when the time is right."

Do I really want to rely on _assumptions_ for something this important? I don't have any better ideas, though, so I guess I don't really have a choice in the matter. "I hope it will."

"It will, Link. Don't worry about it too much. It'll work out. I promise. Besides, we're obviously not waking it up right now. So." He rocks his head to the side slightly. "How about Waypoint?"

I'm glad he can be so optimistic about this. I just hope he's right. In the meantime... "Waypoint is fine."

"Good. Then which do you want first: food or bed?"

"Shower," I say, climbing onto Epona.

He laughs and starts his engine.

\---

My clothes are sweaty, my shirt is sticking to my back, and there are gray smudges of _something_ on my jeans that I don't want to think about too hard. It's probably just dust from the Great Palace or dirt from the canyon. Probably.

I throw my clothes into a pile on the floor and climb into the shower. I'll worry about what's on them later. I just want to be clean. I know it's only been a few days, but I feel like I haven't bathed in weeks. All the dust doesn't help.

Once I finally feel clean -- which takes some doing -- I turn off the water, but I don't climb out of the shower, not just yet. Instead I lean against the wall and just _breathe_ for a few minutes. It's done now. The Master Sword is in the front with the rest of our gear. I'm in a motel room now, with hot water and a soft bed and no monsters to be had anywhere.

I can relax now. I think. I sigh heavily and step out of the shower.

Dark is in the bathroom with me, shirt off, using the mirror to look at his arm. I grab for a towel and quickly wrap it around my waist, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"How long have you been in here?" I ask.

"Couple of minutes? I knocked, but I guess you didn't hear me." He scowls at his arm. He's injured; I see a long gash and a puncture.

"When did that happen?"

"Few days ago. It's okay. Just thought I should check on it."

It doesn't look a few days old. It looks new. "We can take you by a clinic and get that looked at."

"Nah, I'll be fine. I'd rather just get a shower and bandage it."

"If you're sure..."

"Yep, I'm sure. It's nothing."

He strips and climbs into the shower; I don't watch him. Once I hear the water start, I check that the curtain is closed, and then I start drying off. Does he just not like doctors, or does he heal differently? If he's not human, then... I shake my head and shove that thought away.

The cut on my cheek is really more of a scratch, just deep enough to draw blood. If I'm lucky, it'll be healed by the end of vacation. If not, then at least a scratch is an easy enough thing to explain. There are so many ways I could get a scratch on my face that don't have anything to do with fleeing from monsters or fighting with shadows. I mean, my roommate has a cat; the excuses practically create themselves.

But I'll worry about that if it happens. I pull on a pair of boxers and walk out of the bathroom. I should probably put on some real clothes, but I slept in my clothes last night, so being out of jeans for a while sounds good. Besides, it's not like Dark hasn't already seen me in nothing but boxers before.

How long ago was that? Two weeks? Three? Less than a month; I know that for certain.

I sit on the bed and turn on the television. It's a weekday afternoon, so there's probably nothing interesting on. I need something to do to pass the time, though, so I check anyway. A nap sounds good, but I want to see what Dark is up to before I fall asleep. The most interesting thing on is a game show. I leave it on for the noise and comb my hair.

"So, since I don't remember asking, what's with the tattoo?"

"It's my tattoo," I reply.

"Well, _yeah_ , it's your tattoo. Still, never had a tattoo before," he says, his voice soft and thoughtful. "Okay, once or twice, a long time ago, but... It's different."

"How so?"

"I don't know. It's just not something the great hero of Hyrule usually does. Especially since you're so scholarly. I didn't think scholars did rebellious things like get tattoos."

I sigh and turn towards him. "I have a tattoo, and my ears are pierced. I don't consider _either_ of those things rebellious."

He grins at me. "Hey, I didn't say there's anything _wrong_ with it. I'm just saying I've heard lots of people call tattoos and things _rebellious_. But then I get called that a lot."

"You probably get called that because of how you act." Though he seems to be behaving now -- he's even wearing drawstring pants instead of just standing there naked. I'm surprised.

He shrugs. "Probably, but I don't really care. Do _you_ get called rebellious much?"

"No, but then nobody knows about my tattoo. A couple of my coworkers do think it's weird that I ride a motorcycle, if that counts."

Dark snickers as he walks over. "So, what made you pick a Triforce?"

Because I research the legends of the hero. Because it just seemed important. "I thought it'd look cool. Why?"

"It suits you."

"Does it really?" It used to be a private joke, almost. My way of trying to connect with men who were long since dead and mostly if not wholly forgotten. But now... I'm not sure what to think about it.

"I have to admit I laughed when it first appeared. I wasn't expecting to wake up with a Triforce on my hip."

"It just appeared?" Did his appear when I got mine? Is that how this works?

"Yeah, I just woke up one morning and had a tattoo. Kind of a weird thing to wake up to. It's been several years now."

Three years. That's how long ago I got it. All of my friends and I went in together to get tattoos one weekend. Mine is a Triforce. Malon's is a horse. Shad's is a stylized owl. Mido's involves a wrench, but I don't remember exactly what else.

"Does it bother you that I have it, too?"

"Not really." I can't really blame him for something he has no control over, even if it is a little eerie. "I feel like I should apologize for it."

"Why? I like it. It just surprised me. Besides, I think I'd rather wake up with a tattoo than other things." He frowns.

"Other things?" I probably shouldn't ask, but I don't stop myself in time. "Never mind. You don't have to answer that."

He nods. "I'm a reflection of you. That seems to include all permanent changes to your body. Tattoos. Scars. Missing eyes. Everything."

_I see myself falling to my knees, clutching at the mangled stump of my left wrist and screaming._

"Link, are you all right?" Dark sounds worried.

"Yeah, I... I'm fine," I lie, going back to sit on the bed. I feel queasy. "Have you ever lost a hand?"

"Nope, just an eye. Why? That dream bothering you that much?"

Then that's not a memory. But if it's not a _memory_ , then what _is_ it? I shake my head. Dreams are weird sometimes, just like Dark said. There's no reason to believe I'm going to lose a hand. "Maybe so."

"Hey, relax. It's just a weird dream."

"Yeah." I look down at my hands. Both of my hands, attached to my wrists just like they're supposed to be. There's a lot going on in my head lately, so I shouldn't be surprised my dreams are getting disturbing. "So, uh, is there anything else we need to do, or can I take a nap?"

"Well, we need to figure out how we're spending the rest of your vacation, but that doesn't have to be done right _now_."

_We?_ He's just inviting himself along? "Okay. Do you have any ideas? Because the only one I can come up with is spending most of the week in bed."

"You should do _something_. Build your strength and all that."

I fall onto my back and close my eyes. "Is that your way of suggesting I start practicing with a sword?" I need to practice with my bow, too. I cringe. No, first I need to dig out my old bow so I _can_ practice. My good one is broken.

"What's that face for? Swords are great weapons."

"I don't fight up close."

"It's not _that_ different from using your knife. You don't seem to have any problems with that." He laughs.

"If you say so." I don't know if I can believe that. "I'll see how I feel after I find a bow and take my shots for this week."

"I can go with you if you want company. I should probably take a few myself. It's... been a while. And then when we're done, I can at least show you a few basics with a sword. It won't take long."

He's determined to go with me, isn't he? I sigh. "Are you that lonely?"

He makes a soft, noncommittal noise. "I could ask you the same question."

"I'm not the one inviting myself along," I counter. "Don't you have anything better to do with your week? Aren't you missing classes?"

"Tch, like a few classes matter? Besides, most of what I do is independent study." He hums a few random notes, and then I feel him sit down next to me. "Maybe I just want to hang out with you. Is there something wrong with that?"

"Considering we barely know each other..." Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know! This whole situation is just so _bizarre!_

"Well, how are we going to get to know each other if we never spend time together?"

"We've been together enough, don't you think?" This is the second time we're going to be sharing a bed.

"Yeah, but we've been distracted by other things. Now we've got time to talk." He sounds so satisfied with that.

I open my eyes so I can frown at him. "You make it sound normal. None of this is normal."

"That depends on what you consider normal. I mean, you study the hero's legends, so running around in old ruins shouldn't be _that_ weird."

"That's not the problem. I'm not used to being _attacked_."

"Ah. Yeah, that part is pretty weird, isn't it? Sorry; I keep forgetting you're not a fighter."

"I would think that's pretty obvious, Dark." I shake my head. "What are we supposed to talk about?"

"I don't know. What do you want to talk about?" He grins at me.

I groan and close my eyes again. "I think I'd rather just get some rest."

"Have it your way. I'm going to go grab something to eat. I'll get something for you, too, okay?"

"All right." I'll worry about food later.

The door opens and closes. I lay there until I hear a motorcycle start up and leave, and then I sit up. What do I do? He's not going to stop following me around now that I have the Master Sword. If anything, he has even _more_ reason to follow me. He's going to teach me swordplay, or so he says. Is he really interested in teaching me swordplay, or is this just a convenient excuse to follow me around?

What am I saying? It's probably _both_. He wants to help, and he wants any excuse to stay around me. Why? Is it because he's my shadow? Or is it something else?

Someone on the television shrieks happily.

I really wish I could talk to Vael about this. He's good at making sense of things no matter how bizarre they seem.

_Damn it_ , Vael wants to meet him. How am I supposed to explain him? I didn't know him when we first met, but I need to explain why we look so much alike -- Vael's _going_ to notice. I know he will. He's going to notice, and he's going to comment on it.

Maybe I should say we're related. I could always just say I didn't recognize Dark at first, and after that, well... Would that work? And I didn't mention it later because I didn't know if it was a joke or... No, that won't work. If I knew who Dark was, I would've mentioned it earlier. Like when I showed Vael his pictograph or something.

Then again, I didn't really say _anything_ about Dark when Vael and I were looking at the pictographs, did I? I think I was too distracted by all the pictographs and not knowing how to explain Dark to really say anything. And when Dark and I met on the side of the road, well, that really was when we first met. Nothing I've said is a lie. I still feel like I've been lying, but how can I tell the truth when the truth is so outlandish?

When is this ever going to start making sense? Dark keeps saying this will all make sense soon, but _it isn't._ It just keeps getting more and more complicated and nonsensical and Farore, what am I even _doing_?

I turn off the television and climb into bed. I need to sleep. Tomorrow I can head back to Northcastle; maybe things will make more sense once I'm there.

\---

"Need anything, Vael?"

"I should have everything I need," I reply, setting my bag onto an empty table. "Ah, wait; there is one thing. Do you have any news about the mix-up with our shipment?"

Ralph scoffs. "Not a whole lot. I _think_ we're going to be keeping that crate long enough to analyze, but past that, I don't know."

"I see. Historian Chambers didn't mention a time limit." Long enough to analyze, hm? Then something about the shipment or my notes must have piqued his interest, though if there are specific pieces that caught his attention, he neglected to mention them in our meeting earlier. Of course, he also didn't seem the slightest bit concerned about all of the damaged enchantments either.

Granted, I'm not _overly_ concerned myself, since it seems to all be short-term warping caused by proximity to the vase, but damage is still damage, especially when dealing with priceless ancient artifacts. Not to mention that I still want to know who loaded that crate. Such _negligence!_

"He didn't mention one to me, either," Ralph replies. "Knowing him, he's probably stalling for as much time as he can get."

"What of the crate we were meant to receive? Is it on its way?"

"Not a clue. For all I know, we'll get it when we send this one back. I gotta admit I don't miss it. I've got enough paperwork to deal with from what we've already got down here."

This is certainly true. "How many crates are in this shipment?"

"I think it's like twenty overall? You don't have to worry about most of them; they don't have anything magical in them, and you don't seem like the type who cares about old weapons."

"Unless they're magical, not particularly, no."

"Exactly." Ralph shrugs. "So you don't have to worry about anything that isn't already in this room. Unlike me."

Is he jealous? I raise an eyebrow. Clearly, he doesn't understand the effort that goes into properly examining magical items.

"Don't give me that look, Ziota. I'm just sick of paperwork."

"Ah, I see." I'm not overly fond of paperwork myself, but records and notes are important reference materials that need to be created. "I should get to work."

"Yeah, I should go." Ralph sighs. "I'll be across the hall if you need me."

I don't see why I would, though I suppose I'll keep it in mind anyway. As soon as the door closes behind Ralph, I slide onto one of the stools and take a slow look around the room. The room is much neater than it was yesterday. The crate and the pile of packing material have been removed, and the various artifacts are arranged neatly on the tables, ready for examination.

Though I note with considerable irritation that someone has moved the gray vase from its perch on the counter onto one of the tables and removed the material wrapped around it. Whoever did it had the sense to put the gray vase well away from everything else, but there was absolutely no need to move it in the first place.

I hear a soft, high-pitched grunt of effort and turn towards the sound. The flap of my bag flops open, and Aifor stumbles out and glares up at me.

I hope it doesn't think it's being the slightest bit intimidating. "Yes?"

"You not let me out."

"Perhaps I would have had you given me the chance. You're rather impatient."

" _Hmph_." It curls its wings in towards itself and stares down at the tabletop.

I take out my notebook and a pen. "I didn't bring you here to pout, Aifor."

It looks up at me and then scrunches its eye in thought. "Um. Right! You want me to look at stuff!" It bounces happily. "What stuff?"

Isn't it obvious? I have to smirk at that. "Look around, Aifor. We have plenty of options."

"Huh?" It finally looks around the room, eye widening the whole while. "Oh, wow! Master has _lots_ of stuff! I not know where to start!"

"Well, then, we have something in common. I can't decide where to begin either."

Aifor bounces a couple of times and takes to the air. "I know! We start at shiniest!" It flies a slow loop around the room.

"You need to be stealthy. You aren't supposed to be in here, remember." I'm uncertain what the reaction will be if anyone sees it in here, nor am I in any particular hurry to learn the answer. Experience says dealing with that is far more trouble than it is worth. People can be so _skittish_ about magic sometimes...

"I stealthy!" Aifor snaps. Then it yelps and dives straight at me, hiding behind my back. "Not like! Not like!"

That was a rather abrupt shift. I raise an eyebrow. "And just what is it that you don't like?"

"Vase is yucky."

A vase? Is it sensing...? "Which vase is yucky?"

"Gray vase is _yucky_. All icky and dark and heavy. Vase pull me." Aifor lands on my shoulder and presses itself against the side of my neck. "I not like it."

The vase, yucky or no, is quiet today. I sense the gentle warmth but not the clawing sharpness. For the moment, at any rate. I walk over to the vase for a closer look, letting my focus shift. Now I can sense the other magics on the vase, magics that I didn't notice yesterday. I don't know if I simply didn't notice them before or if some other force drowned them out, though right now it doesn't matter.

There are several magics on this vase, twisted and woven and twined together in ways that I didn't think possible. The effect is impressive, especially the ways the magics seem to double and even triple over themselves endlessly. Though there is also an odd motion to the entire field, a slow, steady, rhythmic expansion and compression that ripples from bottom to top.

Strange... I've never seen a magical field act like this before. I watch it for a moment, watching the braided strands of magic shift as the expansion and compression continues. No, I don't think this is the _field_. This seems more as if something _inside_ the field is moving and shifting and making the field move as it does.

I stare at the wax-covered cork. Something is inside this vase, something that shifts and rattles when it is moved. Something is inside this vase, something that breathes and writhes within a tightly-woven cage of magic. Something is inside this vase that someone took great pains to seal inside both physically and magically.

The sharpness must be whatever presence or power is sealed inside. Or, more correctly, the sharpness is the presence's attempts to break its cage and free itself. I think.

"How many magics do you detect, Aifor?" I keep my voice low.

Aifor makes an annoyed huff as it shifts on my shoulder. "I not want to look. It pull me!"

"What do you mean by pull?"

"It pull me! It..." It growls in irritation, tightening its little claws on my shirt. "It pull. It yank. It drag. It --"

"It feels as if it's pulling you in?" I don't feel anything of the sort. Is it because Aifor is so much smaller?

"Yes! It pull and pull. And what if it not let go? I not want to be stuck!"

Perhaps the pulling sensation is how Aifor interprets the seal itself? That said, why would the seal be pulling at Aifor? Aifor clearly isn't whatever presence the seal was designed to contain. I reach out and lightly tap on the vase with my knuckles. Aside from the dull sound it produces, nothing of interest happens except that the magic seems to constrict around the vase momentarily.

"It's merely a vase, Aifor. A vase with an intricate and complicated seal, but still merely a vase."

"No it not. It _yucky_. I not like it."

I sigh. "Whether you like it or not, I still have to analyze it."

It shifts on my shoulder so it can look up at my face. "Analyze yucky vase later. Something shiny first."

True, I only have an entire room of artifacts to examine, and I've yet to be given any kind of priority list. Still, something about this vase nags at me. I should by all rights ignore it as long as possible -- I'm reluctant to start prodding at such complicated magic, and in fact, the cage is complex enough that I'm not entirely certain I _can_ analyze it in any meaningful way -- but the same things that make it so unusual also make it fascinating. Who crafted such exquisite magic, and _why?_

Aside from the obvious fact that someone wanted to ensure that whatever is inside this vase never saw the light of day again, that is. And that fact makes this vase's contents _very_ dangerous.

"I need to see the magics on this vase, Aifor. Assist me with that, and then we'll examine something shiny." I'm not certain this will help, but I need every scrap of knowledge I can gather right now.

Aifor whimpers. "Promise?"

"I promise."

It growls and shifts position, grumbling to itself as it turns to face the vase. "Okay. But quick!"

I can feel its frustration, more so when I close my eyes and focus on the link between us. "This shouldn't take me long, Aifor."

I experience the usual flicker of disorientation as my mind adjusts to seeing through Aifor's eye instead my own two -- though thankfully this time, it's sitting on my shoulder, so there isn't a massive shift in perspective -- and once it passes, I focus my attention on the thin wisps of woven magic just barely visible around the vase. My field of vision narrows as Aifor focuses, and the wisps become more visible and gain color.

Calling this magic a 'cage' isn't correct. It's more intricate than a cage, strands woven into braids that are in turn woven into something like an ornately textured fabric. The magics are woven together so tightly that even their colors aren't much help with determining where one ends and the next begins. I stare at the magics as they continue to expand and contract. The motion opens gaps here and there, tiny little breaks in the fabric that repair and fill themselves quickly, but they still exist long enough to peer through.

There _is_ something beneath the fabric of the magic, some kind of form or mass engulfed by the cage. It's dark, solid yet not solid; the impression I get of it is a swirling mist, one that swirls more violently the longer I watch.

Is it aware of me? Surely not. And yet, I can't shake the feeling that the mist is trying to peer back...

"That's enough," I say, but Aifor has already turned away, climbing down my shoulder and towards my back collar, giving me an up-close view of the back of my neck as it moves. It's hiding. It isn't frustrated any longer; now it is confused, hesitant, _frightened_. Did it see something I didn't?

"Why are --?" The door opens quickly, practically thrown open. Aifor lets out a squeak that is more in my head than in my ears as the link between us _snaps_ and my vision lurches back to my own head. My arms twitch and my head spins and I slam my hands against the tabletop to stabilize myself and disguise the motion. I try to focus on Aifor's small form pressed against the base of my neck; it's the only thing that doesn't reel around me.

"What _is_ it, Ralph?" I force out.

The response is a chuckle that isn't Ralph's. "I didn't intend to startle you, my mage. I simply came down to see how your work is progressing."

Ah, lovely. I wasn't able to hide that as well as I had hoped. I straighten and turn towards Historian Chambers, mostly to conceal the odd lump Aifor has to be creating in my hair. I lean against the table because I'm still not completely steady.

"Very slow," I answer. "I'm not certain I can analyze this vase to your satisfaction."

Historian Chambers frowns, or perhaps he scowls; his bushy mustache makes it difficult to tell. He certainly furrows his brow. "What makes you think that? You're by the far the best mage on the Project and probably one of the best mages in the entire kingdom. If anyone can analyze the magic on this vase, it you."

As much as I usually appreciate flattery, it isn't particularly _helpful_. I look over my shoulder at the vase. "The magics on this vase are stronger and more complicated than I originally thought. There is a very good reason this vase's magic has damaged everything else. There is something sealed within this vase, something the vase's creator or creators intended to keep there."

His eyebrows rise. "Oh? Do you have any idea what this 'something' may be?" He sounds _entirely_ too pleased with that.

"No, I do not know what it may be, other than the fact that it is powerful and potentially dangerous.

"Hm. Fascinating." Historian Chambers walks over and examines the vase. "Then this is worthy of in-depth study, don't you think?"

Has he already forgotten that I just said I may not be capable of that? There is a lot of magic here. I don't know what may happen if I disrupt the seal. "Sir, if I may remind you, every last piece in this room has damage to its magic because of nothing more than _proximity_ to this vase. If _anything_ about my examination should disrupt these magics in any way, it _will_ lash out and it may even _explode_." Granted, explosions only happen when there is instability present, and the seal must be stable to still be so intact. However, considering that _I'm_ the person who will have the luxury of taking any potential explosion to the face, I can't and won't rule it out.

Besides, perhaps a bit of exaggeration will finally convince him of the problems here.

Aifor squirms against the back of my neck. It must sense my aggravation.

Historian Chambers seems to consider that. "Ah, true, true. I suppose it never hurts to be cautious, especially around all of these priceless artifacts. The Royal Family would be rather miffed if something were to happen, and I did give them my word that their treasures would be kept safe."

How many times do I have to mention the magical damage before he acknowledges that it exists? Now I know where his priorities lie. "Your concern for my well-being is noted."

"Now, now, my mage, I'm quite confident in your ability to tease the answers we seek out of this vase without endangering yourself or anyone else. Still, it would be best if you had a better workplace and we had better storage for the vase, yes..." He reaches up and leisurely adjusts his oval glasses before giving me a small smile that I only see in his eyes. "If it will help put your mind at ease, I can arrange to have a room warded and reinforced for you."

I _am_ confident in my abilities. I also recognize that intricate magic can be volatile under the best circumstances, and these are in no possible way the best circumstances. "Perhaps I could borrow one of the isolation chambers at the Academy for a while. It would be simpler to arrange."

Not that I have any desire to haul the vase all the way across campus, but I know for a _fact_ that the Academy's isolation chambers are well-crafted.

Historian Chambers shakes his head. "No, I would be more comfortable if everything stayed in the same building. It's best to keep things together as much as we can. It won't take long to have a room properly reinforced and warded for your us. Would this room do?"

He's determined to do this his way, isn't he? Fine. The details don't really matter as long as I don't have to do the warding myself. "Honestly, I only need about half this space. My techniques don't require space, sir, just a lack of interference."

"Half the space, you say? We aren't using Storage 4 at the moment, so we could... Yes, yes... I'll handle the arrangements. You should have your warded room within a week."

That sounds too soon. "There is no need to rush, sir. I have plenty of other work to do while I wait, and I know proper warding needs time."

"That may be true, but I'm more intrigued by this vase than anything else I've seen so far. I'll contact the Vault and see what information they have about it. Do we have drawings of this vase yet?"

Why, precisely, is he asking _me_ this? The only drawings I ever make myself are magical diagrams, and no one else on the Project seems interested in those. "I don't know."

"Hm. I'll have to assume the answer is no, then. I'll send someone to do that later today." He continues examining the vase, paying particular attention to the wax-covered plug and murmuring to himself about carvings and having rubbings taken. "Ah, yes; I don't suppose you've had the chance to date this, by chance?"

He hasn't even been listening to half of what I say. "No, sir," I say flatly, "I have not. I haven't even finished a proper inventory of what piece has which effect. These pieces arrived _yesterday_."

"Ah, yes, right. My apologies. I often forget just how complex your work can be, and I get ahead of myself."

I sigh. "Let me put it this way. Assuming no difficulties, the other artifacts in this room will take me at least a month's work to date. Something more complex, such as this vase, will take considerably longer."

"I'm thinking that we may be able to exhibit some of our more interesting findings during the Spring Gala. I know that's probably short notice given how time-intensive your work tends to be, but would it be possible to have something to show by then? Ages of the artifacts, perhaps, or the nature of their enchantments? Honestly, I'm far more interested in the ages of these pieces than their purposes, but I will gladly take every detail that I can get. I'm also intrigued by that vase; anything you can learn about it is welcome."

"I can't promise specifics, but yes, I should have plenty of information for you by then." Five months is plenty of time to find answers. "So I assume this means we're going to be keeping these? I thought there was a mix-up with our shipment."

"Merely a miscommunication. Some of the pieces we received will be returned to the Vault, and the Vault will be sending several pieces that were meant to be in our shipment. The more interesting artifacts will remain in our care, including this vase, so your work should see little disruption."

"I see." He is completely enthralled by the gray vase, isn't he? I can't say I entirely blame him. I'm intrigued myself by the sheer craftsmanship of the seal. At the same time, I can't shake the lingering feeling that whatever is in that vase is aware of the world outside its prison...

I don't know what I expected. With very few exceptions, the only people who truly understand how fickle and delicate and resistant and violent magic can be are mages. No matter. I shall push myself as far as I am comfortable, but no further.

"Ah, one last thing," Historian Chambers says. "One of our artists will be by later to begin sketching the artifacts, and I'll send Ralph by to pack up the pieces we won't be keeping. This won't interfere with your work, I trust?"

I'd rather be in here alone so Aifor can assist me, and even if if I didn't have Aifor with me, I vastly prefer working _undisturbed._ "Until I start actually testing pieces, no. I will need privacy once I start performing my tests so I can focus."

"Then it's settled. Your room should be ready within the week, but until then, you can continue to use this room. If there is anything you require, simply ask, my mage, and I will do whatever I can to help."

"I appreciate that, sir." Ralph is good at being unobtrusive, if nothing else, and it shouldn't take him long if all he needs to do is pack. How long will it take to sketch everything? Days? Weeks? I doubt I'll get much work done until I can move into the warded room and get some privacy.

Historian Chambers gives me another smile I only see in his eyes. "Then I'll leave the details to you. Keep me informed."

He is the head of the Royal History Project. Why _wouldn't_ I keep him informed? I can't say which bothers me more, that he seems to be willfully ignoring most of what I say or that he seems to be withholding information. What is he hiding?

I highly doubt he'd answer me if I were to ask. "Of course. You'll be the first to know if I learn anything interesting."

Historian Chambers nods at me. "Good. I look forward to your results," he says, and then he leaves.

Once the door closes behind him, I turn around and slam my hands onto the tabletop again, staring down at nothing in particular. I'm well aware that I can be rather cavalier with my safety when it comes to my experiments -- Aifor's very existence is proof enough of that -- but it's one thing for me to willingly choose to take risks. It's another thing entirely for _him_ to be willing to risk _my_ safety for his own gain!

Perhaps I'm misunderstanding? Perhaps. I lay the blame for that on the gray vase; it has me on edge, and Aifor's apprehension doesn't help. If I am going to analyze that vase, I need to plan carefully and act accordingly.

"Master _not listening!_ " Aifor huffs. It hops down to the tabletop and glares up at me, pulling its wings close to its little body.

"I'm listening now."

Its wings slide open as it relaxes. "Why Master have to study vase? Vase yucky and icky and what if Master get stuck?"

"This is precisely why I brought you here, Aifor. I need your help to minimize the risk." The more I can learn about these magics _before_ I start probing them, the less likely something can catch me unaware.

It stares down at the tabletop, grumbling quietly.

Determining the vase's age is the priority, I suppose, but how precise can I be? I should be able to work out a rough figure, though... no, I need to know more about what magics are on the vase before I can work out _anything_. What effect does that tightly-interwoven form of the magics have on the rate of decay? Theoretically it should slow the decay, meaning the vase should test as younger...

If I am right and the presence inside the vase was trying to look back, then it is somehow still _aware_ , despite the fact that it has been held fast for decades, centuries, perhaps even millennia. That makes it powerful, especially the best explanation for that sharpness that lashed out at me yesterday is the presence trying to break free.

I need to be cautious. Power without control can do nothing but destroy.

"Time for shiny," Aifor says, looking up at me. "You _promise_."

"I haven't forgotten. However, you heard my esteemed leader. Some co-worker of mine will be coming in here at some point. You need to be ready to hide at any moment."

"I can do that!" It bounces on the tabletop before peering contently up at me. "I good at hiding and sneaking."

Of course it is; I created it to be precisely that, but I don't know how much time we have left to ourselves. I look around the room, trying and failing to remember what I noted about the other artifacts in here. There are several pieces of jewelry and some decanters and plates scattered across the tables. None of those should be difficult or time-consuming, and all of them should be shiny enough to attract Aifor's attention.

"Master, time for _shiny_."

"Then choose your shiny, and we'll get to work."

"Yay!" It bounces over to the edge of the table and takes to the air, flying another lazy loop of the room, though this time it stays well away from the gray vase. After a few moments, it lands on the table holding the most pieces of jewelry. "Shiniest over here!"

"Very well," I say, walking towards it. "We shall start there."


	10. Chapter 9

My aim is just lousy today. Arrows are all over the target instead of in a neat little grouping, and one of them is in the ground right in front of the target. I don't even remember how long it's been since the last time I was off so much.

I want to blame the bow. It isn't my good one or even my older, not-quite-as-good one; it's just one I got off the rack here at the range. It's a decent bow, yes, but it's a far cry from what I'm used to. The grip doesn't sit right in my hand. The pull isn't the strength I prefer.

But I know it's not all the bow's fault. I just can't focus on this. I'm too nervous, and that makes me shaky. I don't understand. I make a point of practicing every single week, so why does this feel so wrong? It can't just be because Dark's next to me, can it?

Maybe it can. Maybe I should just blame _him_ for all of this. After all, none of this would've happened if not for his ideas. And me taking him up on them, but that's just because he talks me into them.

Dark fires an arrow; it lands in the small grouping of arrows clustered around the center of his target. _He_ doesn't seem to be having any trouble with his aim. This is embarrassing.

He glances at me. "Something the matter?"

"You said you were a swordsman. You never mentioned you were an archer." At least, I think he told me that. I got the idea from _somewhere_.

"I'm a lot of things, really." He grins. "Turns out heroes have to be more than just swordsmen or archers, so I've learned how to do a lot of things. I can even do some of them well."

That's probably true, though I know some of the legends refer to the hero as "the young swordsman". Although now that I think about it, Ganon's Slayer used some kind of sacred arrows, and I remember several different mentions of hammers and boomerangs and magical rods. And musical instruments. Every legend I'm aware of mentions the hero using magical music to accomplish some task or another.

I'm not sure why I remember that right now.

"Rupee for your thoughts?"

"My thoughts haven't changed, Dark."

"Well, yeah, but you keep dwelling on them anyway." He reaches over, using one end of his bow to raise my chin. "You really need to stop doing that."

"Is it that obvious?"

"I don't even need to look at you, Link. All I have to do is look at the way you're shooting. We both know you're better than this."

I frown. "And just how do you know that?"

He grins wider. "I have my ways."

He starts to turn his attention back to his target, but I hook his shirt collar with an end of my bow and tug him towards me again. No, he's not evading this time. "That's not good enough. How do you _know_ that? You really have been stalking me, haven't you?"

Dark rolls his eyes. "Link, the first time we met you were wearing a shirt from an archery competition. You're wearing another one _right now_. You have a damned good bow and plenty of arrows, as well as your own pair of well-fitting archery gloves. Not to mention that your stance is comfortable, and everything about how you draw and release says the motions are as natural for you as breathing. Besides, I've seen you shirtless. You've got archery muscles." He chuckles, casually reaching up and freeing my bow from his collar. "Everything about you says you're a natural with a bow, so I know you can shoot better than this."

I don't remember what I was wearing the night we met... but he's right; when I sigh and look down, it's at the words "More flying feathers than an angry cucco!" curving over a target full of arrows. I can't argue with the rest of that argument, either. Even if that means he's spent enough time staring at me shirtless to determine that.

I shake my head and shrug. "All right. This is all just so much."

"Y'know, if all you need is a distraction, I can give you one." His tone is so direct, so matter-of-fact, that it catches me off-guard.

"What's your idea of a distraction?" I finally ask.

He points his bow at something off to the left of the neat row of targets. "There's a practice field over there, and they rent practice weapons. I'm willing to bet you good, hard crystal that you can't learn something new and dwell on things at the same time."

I slump my shoulders. "That assumes I _can_ learn something new."

"Oh, I'm sure you can. I bet you'll be a fast learner, too." He gives me a wink and a dangerous grin. What is he implying?

"You know what? Fine. We'll go over to the practice field, and then you'll see just how terrible I am with a sword." I'm not sure I _can_ learn how to use a sword. Garrimed has shown me basic moves with several different kinds of swords -- well, not me specifically, but I've seen his demonstrations -- and none of it makes any sense to me. It looks less like fighting and more like some kind of weird snapping of arms while holding a sharp prop.

We gather up our arrows and turn in our borrowed gear, and then Dark leads me over to the practice field. He insists on picking both practice swords, taking several minutes at the rack. He picks up each weapon in turn, swings it around, and twirls it with his wrist. He's looking for something, but I don't have the slightest clue what. I just watch him and try not to stress over it.

Finally, we end up on the field itself, off away from the other people sparring. The practice sword he hands me is padded, its hilt wooden. It's shorter than the Master Sword, but somehow, it's heavier. It feels awkward in my hand.

"No, don't hold it so gingerly. You have to have a good grip on it, or the slightest move is going to send it flying," Dark says, crossing his arms. "But don't choke up on it, either. You need to be able to move. It's not that different from the grip on your bow."

"That's easy for you to say." Come to think of it, have I ever seen him fight? I think he was the one moving that massive flail, and he dealt with those things at the graveyard somehow, but I can't claim to have been paying attention to that. I was too distracted.

He snatches his sword off of the ground and sweeps the weapon towards me, resting the tip lightly against my neck. It's a strange motion, graceful and quick and somehow simultaneously showy and efficient.

"Yeah," he says with a laugh. "It really is."

I step back and push his sword away from my neck. How does he think I'm supposed to defend myself against a move like that? "Just please remember I've never done this before."

"That's really for the best." He lowers his sword. "Heroes don't fight like soldiers do anyway. So, first things first. We need to get you comfortable with that thing. Swing it around a little. See how it feels in your hand."

I do that, though it doesn't take long before I feel like a little kid with a stick playing knights and monsters. I hope I don't look like one, too.

Dark doesn't laugh at me, for whatever that's worth. He stands out of reach and just watches me. He's looking for something again, but I'm not sure what he think he's going to see. Maybe he's waiting for a friendly ghost to come along and teach me how to do this.

"You're trying too hard," he says after a few minutes.

"I'm just swinging it."

"You _say_ that, but I can tell you're thinking about it while you're doing it. You can't think. This needs to be as natural as moving your arm."

I lower the sword to my side and glare at him. "That's _really_ easy for you to say. I have to think. I'm not used to swinging something around like this."

Dark rolls his eyes and groans. "All right, fine, damn. Then keep swinging and I'll distract you so you can't think too hard."

"Why do you keep talking about distracting me? It's kind of creepy." I start swinging the sword again, mostly so I don't dwell too much on the implications.

"And now I'm creepy again." He chuckles. "Hasn't stopped you from sharing a bed with me."

"Don't say it like that!" No one's close; no one can hear him. And even if someone does, we're on the opposite side of Hyrule from Northcastle. This won't cause trouble, right? I hope? "I only did that because I was too tired to complain."

"Does it bother you?"

My next swing has more force than necessary behind it. " _Yes_ , it does. I don't normally share beds with people!" Except Vael, but Vael and I have known each other for much longer than a month.

"Y'know, we're practically brothers."

Technically, he's right. He's my shadow, so he's effectively my twin. That doesn't really help the situation. "I can't just have my brother appear out of nowhere." Especially a 'brother' who keeps phrasing things like he's flirting with me! _Is_ he flirting? Or is he just having fun messing with my head?

"Yeah, true. Tch, this Hyrule and all of its records. They're such a pain in the ass."

Speaking of records... "How did you get a driver's license? You _do_ have one, right?" He has to have some kind of identification, or else the University of Hyrule wouldn't have admitted him.

"Yes, I have one. Thrice, Link, I have my own _apartment_. I exist just as much as you do."

"But _how?_ "

He just grins. "I have my ways."

"The same way you have the exact same bike and riding gear as I do, right?" I glance around to make sure no one has gotten closer to us, and then I continue, "This is some kind of shadow thing, isn't it?"

"You could say that." He smirks.

"Then what name is on your identification?" He can't be using my name. Someone would've noticed if there were two men with the same name at the university -- especially since my name isn't common. Two Links would draw attention, wouldn't they? At the very least, our paperwork should get mixed up.

"Raven Masters. Need me to prove that?"

Does he even need to ask? Especially considering how that _sounds?_ "Yes, I do."

"Then here's your proof," he says, still smirking, as he pulls out his wallet and tosses it to me.

I catch it and flip it open. His license is a standard Western Hyrule motorcyclist license, with his picto grinning up at me next to the name Raven Masters. The physical description is his, not mine, though his birthday is the same -- that makes sense, I guess. The address isn't mine, either; it's closer to campus than my apartment is. I slide the card out for a better look; behind it is a University of Hyrule student I.D. with the same name on it.

"Why did you name yourself after a bird?" I ask.

He scowls. "I didn't name myself after a _bird_. I named myself after a _man._ Besides, I kind of like the name, so why not? I had to call myself something."

True, but... oh, why am I even arguing this? "Then should I start calling you Raven?"

"If it makes you more comfortable, I guess you can." He scrunches his face in displeasure. "I'd prefer you just keep calling me Dark, though."

"Okay, Dark it is." I need to remember that the name on his I.D. is Raven, just in case. It's probably what everyone on campus calls him, after all. I slide his license back into his wallet and walk over to give it back. Seeing his height on his license just reminds me that he's slightly taller than I am for some reason.

"What's the scowl about this time?"

"You're my shadow. Why are you taller?"

"Finally noticed, did you?"

I put my free hand on my hip. "It's hard not to when it's printed on your license. And I did notice before; I'm not that oblivious."

"Okay, okay. But yes, I'm the taller one." He sticks his tongue out at me before going back to smirking. "Does it _bother_ you that I'm taller?"

"No. I'm just curious." To be honest, it does bother me. He's my shadow. We're practically identical, but his skin and hair and eyes are all different colors from mine, and he's _taller_ somehow. I'd put it out of mind before, but now it's nagging at me. "It just seems weird that you have my tattoo but not my height."

He shrugs. "That's just how it is, I guess. Chalk it up as a shadow thing."

"Yeah, I guess." I start swinging the sword again just to have something to do. I hear voices in the distance, little more than whispers.

Dark goes by Raven. The name is kind of familiar, in that weird sense where I swear I've met someone with that name before, but I can't remember who or when. Maybe I'm imagining it. Still, the name doesn't fit him. The name sounds kind of silly, but at the same time, it sounds almost proud and regal, like it's a name meant for a knight, not a shadow.

"There we go. Now you're getting the hang of it."

"Huh? Getting the hang of what?"

"See, now, if I answer that, you're going to start thinking about it again." Dark raises his sword. "Come over here and swing at my sword a few times."

Right, he's still determined he can teach me how to use this thing. "What happens if I miss?"

"Stop worrying about what happens if things go wrong and just swing." He beckons me with his sword. "This should be easy."

I'm getting really tired of him saying everything's going to be easy. It's easy for _him_ , maybe, but not for me. I swing, striking his sword a little over halfway down. Even with all the padding on our weapons, I feel the impact in my arm.

He just watches, seemingly unimpressed. "Again."

I swing again, and we quickly fall into a pattern. No matter how I swing, he doesn't react; he just tells me to do it again. After a few swings, he starts moving his sword. What is the point of this? This isn't that different from hitting a tree or a bush with a stick, and I haven't done that since I was eight. How is this supposed to teach me how to do anything useful?

Then he starts moving, too, stepping sideways and backwards, forcing me to move with him to give chase. I start swinging harder in frustration. Does he want me to try and disarm him? Does he want to know how hard I can swing this thing? Why am I doing this?

He swings back; our swords slam together between us. Dark meets my gaze. "Playing rough, are we?"

"I'm not playing anything!" I shove his sword away and swing again.

He steps out of the way instead of blocking, slashing at me with his sword. I block it, though the impact is strong enough that I almost drop my sword in the process.

He laughs, and then he swings again. I block it and immediately wish I hadn't. It's a hard hit, one that makes my palm sting and my wrist twist and jerk as the force shoots up my arm. I drop the sword and grab my wrist.

"Shit! Are you all right?"

"How should I know?" Everything is stinging; my hand and wrist feel hot. I work off my glove. I'm not bleeding. That's a start.

Dark slides my jacket sleeve up and gently prods at my wrist. I bite back a hiss as he does; the pressure hurts.

"Nothing seems broken. It's going to be sore, but..." He stares down at my wrist, not looking up at me. "Sorry. I got carried away."

I flex each of my fingers in turn. Everything moves, and every motion aches, but it doesn't seem that bad. Still, my wrist and palm are both a little swollen, and they're tender enough that they're probably bruised. It's just as well that I still have a few days before I have to be back at work. "I'll be fine."

"I'll get you pain meds and an ice pack. You stay here." He grabs our swords and starts towards the office.

"I can walk," I mutter as I follow him. As I walk, I slowly rotate my wrist. Okay, that motion really hurts, but I think I'll be okay as long as I'm gentle with it. Wait, what about driving? I move my hand like I'm working Epona's controls; pain stabs into my wrist with the motion. Damn it, I won't be able to drive across the parking lot, let alone back to Northcastle!

Dark turns back to me, concerned. "What is it?"

There's something about the way he looks, eyes downcast, brow furrowed, shoulders tense but slumped. He hasn't acted the slightest bit guilty about anything else that's happened -- getting us lost in an abandoned graveyard, scaring me out of my wits at the motel, racing down a monster-infested canyon, _attacking me in the Great Palace_ \-- so why is he acting so guilty about _this?_ I don't understand. What makes this different?

"It just hurts a bit when I move my wrist certain ways. I'm okay." I'm not exactly sure how I'm getting back to Northcastle, but physically, I'm okay. Nothing's bleeding or broken, just sore. This is nothing rest and pain medicine can't fix, so I'm not really lying to him. I start walking again.

"How much is 'a bit'?" he asks when he catches up.

"I'll be fine, really. This isn't the first time I've hurt my wrist." I just don't know how to anticipate a hit like that. It's more proof I don't know what I'm doing with a sword. Maybe it's not as bad as it seems. Maybe I can still drive myself home with some patience and a brace.

Dark turns in our swords. While he does, I find the first aid station -- little more than a man with a box of basic medical supplies -- and get a dose of pain medicine, a bottle of water, and an ice pack. The man doesn't offer to look at my wrist, nor do I ask. This really doesn't seem serious, and if it is, I can go to the healer once I get home. Once I manage to get there, anyway.

I find a bench and try to make myself comfortable, swallowing the medicine and putting the ice pack on my wrist. I'm trying, but it isn't really happening. What I need to do is just stop doing things for a while so my head can catch up. I still haven't sorted out my thoughts about the Great Palace and the Master Sword, and here I am in Waypoint getting myself hurt.

Somehow this makes perfect sense, too. I don't get hurt by all the spears flying at my head or the wild ride to the Great Palace or the trek inside the ruins or even by that massive flail Dark somehow managed to swing at me. _No_ , instead I get hurt on a sparring field in Waypoint while blocking a swing from a practice sword. I'm hurt not because I go off to delve through ancient ruins in the middle of monster-infested nowhere but because I decide to play swordsman.

Farore, I'm a piece of work. I groan and let my head fall back against the bench. I've changed my mind; I'm looking forward to the end of my vacation. The shipment from the Royal Archives Vault will be there when I get back, as well as a small mountain of texts to pore through. Old texts can distract me from the last few days. Then when I'm at home, I can try my hand at cleaning the Master Sword, maybe even find someone who can give me a hand with it.

And maybe, at some point, I can tell Vael about this whole thing and ask what he thinks about the Master Sword. Assuming he believes any of it.

I still hear whispering in the distance. Am I really hearing voices, or is this like at the Great Palace? Is this going to keep happening to me?

"That's been taken care of," Dark says, walking over to sit next to me. "Should we head back to the motel, or do you want to stay here for a bit?"

"We should go. It's a long ride back to Northcastle." I close my eyes and sigh. And my wrist is going to make it a lot longer.

Dark lifts my arm and slides off the ice pack.

"What are you doing?"

"Apologizing," he says. Something brushes my wrist; it feels hot, especially after the ice pack.

"You don't -- Did you just kiss me?" Why would he do that? Is this his idea of an apology? I'm blushing again; is _that_ what this is about?

"Yeah, I just kissed you. That's what you do, right? Kiss it to make it better?"

That's what people do with kids! I don't want to know his response to that, so I just don't say anything. Instead, I put the ice pack back on my wrist and wish the blushing would stop.

"Hey, this was my fault. I got carried away, and you got hurt, so I'm apologizing. Are you going to be able to drive?"

"I'll manage." Probably not, but I don't want to admit that.

"Okay, then, I'll drive you back. You're okay with me driving your motorcycle, right?"

"What do you mean you'll drive me back? What about your motorcycle? You're not going to just leave it here, are you?" I open my eyes so I can give him a dubious scowl.

Dark grins. "Relax. The only bike we have to worry about is yours, Link."

Then how is his motorcycle getting back to Northcastle? "That doesn't make any sense."

"My bike is no less a shadow than I am." He winks at me. "As long as we can get _your_ bike back to Northcastle, the rest will work itself out. So, are you okay with me driving your motorcycle?"

"What about your gear? There isn't room for it in my saddlebags." I really want to know how a motorcycle can be a shadow, so I file that thought away to ask later, when I'm not in pain and we're not out in public. I'm also dodging the question. No one's driven Epona except me since... well, since Mido took her for a test drive after he finished all the work on her engine several years ago.

Then again, if his motorcycle is Epona's shadow or however it works, then he knows exactly how she handles.

Dark pokes my ice pack before giving me an unimpressed look. "I've got a couple of things I need to stash in one of your bags, but for the most part, my gear's nothing to worry about either. Seriously, Link, this will work out fine. Are you willing to let me drive your motorcycle? I'm going to keep asking this until you give me an answer."

I sigh at that. So, do I stay at the motel another night to see if my wrist feels any better tomorrow, or do I head for home today? That's really not much of a choice, all things considered, especially since it doesn't matter how much my wrist hurts if I don't have to drive. "All right, you can drive her. But just this once."

\---

Oh, _damn_ , how I've missed this. Okay, sure, this is the first time Link and I have shared a motorcycle, but there's not _that_ much of a difference between a motorcycle and a horse. I have to actually _drive_ and not just let Epona wander as she pleases, but I'm used to this motorcycle thing by now, and besides, I've got Link behind me, warm against my back.

He's touching me. Of his own volition, even! Yeah, it's a simple thing, but considering how skittish he's been acting whenever I touch his shoulder... Really wish I knew what his problem is. There's nothing wrong with a little touching. Or a lot of touching for that matter. That's not going to happen for a long time, though, unless he suddenly decides he can tolerate me. Then again, he's willing to do this, and he let me rest my hand on his shoulder a couple of times, and I even managed to kiss his wrist without him pulling away. I'm making progress.

I drive fast, not caring about all of the traffic on the road with us. But not too fast though. Link doesn't seem to mind the speed, but the guard could be hiding anywhere. I'm on his bike, not mine, I remind myself. I need to behave. Mostly, anyway.

In that vein, I really need to go easy on him for a while. This is my fault. I rushed him into something he just wasn't ready for, and now he's hurt. Because of me. I always do this, even when I swear it won't happen again. And it's worse this time since nothing's happened yet. He's never taken up a sword before; I can tell. He knows how to hold it when his mind shuts up and lets instinct take over, but he can't fight with one. All he can do is hurt himself again. It's hilarious, but it's also worrisome.

I can teach him how to use that sword, and until then, he's a skilled archer. I need to get him a replacement for the bow I broke, or maybe he has a spare one at home he can use for a while. He can defend himself just fine with a bow, and he has me. I'm always ready to hack down a threat, especially when it's a threat to Link.

But I'd rather not think about that right now. This isn't the time to worry about Pigman and all of his cultists and whatever pathetic little plans they want to put into motion. It's not the time to think about battle or memories or anything that doesn't involve this motorcycle on this road. I just want to enjoy Link against my back while I have the chance.

And I _do_ enjoy him against me. If only we didn't have these bulky jackets in the way... Maybe after we get to Northcastle. Maybe I can convince him to let me give him a shoulder rub or something; that's a good excuse to touch his back.

Yeah, I like this plan. I'll get him home, unload his gear, and then talk him into a backrub, and we'll go from there.

Wonder how good his endurance is? He covered a lot of ground in the graveyard, but he was scared at the time. He's good when it comes to his bow or a long walk, so he can handle slow and steady. That's an option, though fast and rough is more fun.

Tch, listen to me. Like _that's_ going to happen outside of my head any time soon. He probably won't even follow the plan as is. I want to give him a massage; he's going to want a bunch of answers or just more time to think. You'd think he'd get tired of spinning his wheels constantly.

I glare at the sign announcing we're nearly to Northcastle. I wish this ride was longer, because I know he's going to hop off as soon as he gets the chance. I'm right. I park in front of his apartment, and as soon as I turn off Epona's engine, Link climbs off and starts stretching. I roll my eyes and slide off my helmet.

"Here we are," I say. "Safe and sound. See? I know what I'm doing."

"Thanks." He looks lost in thought. Again. I can almost smell the burning rubber, even. What is he so focused on _now?_

I don't ask; instead I just say, "You look tired."

"I'm exhausted," he replies.

Not surprising, really. I bet he'll sleep well tonight if he can just get his head to shut up. "How your wrist? I didn't jostle it too much, did I?"

"It just aches a bit. I'm fine, Dark."

"Can't blame me for asking. I'll haul in your gear if you can get the door for me."

He stares at me for a moment before saying, "You mean my stalker doesn't have his own copy of my keys?"

"Never had a need for them, so no. Besides, I've got enough keys of my own to keep track of, thanks." I start unstrapping his bags.

"You don't have to get them all. Just the tail bag is fine."

I ignore him and detach the saddlebags. I know most of his camping gear is in these, so if I don't get them now, he'll have to come back for them later, sore wrist or not. This way he can't hurt himself.

"Dark..."

"I'm taking these inside, and you're not stopping me."

Link shakes his head. "All right, do what you want." He heads up the stairs and unlocks his door.

"Where do you want this stuff?"

He hesitates, but then he says, "First door on the left past the kitchen is my room. Just toss them on the bed for now."

Works for me, though he really could've just said to put it in his room. I open the door and toss his bags onto the unmade bed. Link comes into the room long enough to set the Master Sword on his desk and his archery case near the closet before disappearing into another room.

I might as well have a good look around while I'm in here. His room is a little messy, surprise, surprise. His desk is strewn with books and papers, the chair in the corner is covered in clothing, and there's a bow and a quiver propped against the open closet door. Not everything is messy, though. A set of shelves holds his neatly-arranged trophies, and one wall has several pictographs hanging on it. The wall above his desk is covered with a large, old-style map of Hyrule. Doesn't look all that different from my place, really, except that mine has more weapons and picto albums.

Let's see... Some of the pictographs are of his family, and most of them are of his friends from Kakariko. I don't recognize all of them. I only see Vael in one pictograph, and that picto is a group portrait of the Royal History Project. Weird. Those two are pretty close, but the only picto Link has of Vael is a group shot?

Huh. So is Link too shy to ask for one, or is Vael too shy to have his picto taken? Either way, I could fix that.

"Yow!" A damned cat, gray with black stripes, stands in the open doorway and stares at me with yellow eyes. When I glare at it, it repeats itself.

 I step over it as I head back out front. "You never said you had a cat."

 Link sits on one of the two couches, his riding gear off. He has an ice pack on his wrist again. "I don't. Japas is my roommate's cat."

 Tch, _details_. "Okay. You never said you live with a cat."

 "I never thought about it, because I wasn't thinking about you coming over here. If he's bothering you, I can put him in Mikau's room for a while."

 I grin at that. "So you don't mind if I hang around for a while?"

 "It's just..." He sighs and shifts on the couch, still not looking at me.

 I think I get it. "Want some company?" He doesn't answer, so I sit down next to him. "How's your wrist?"

"It's fine, Dark. You don't have to keep asking me that."

That's just it; I keep asking because I don't believe his answer. But whatever. "How about the rest of you? Are you sore or stiff or anything like that?"

He finally lifts his head and gives me a skeptical look. "You want something, don't you?"

Well, if he's going to be like that... I slide off my jacket and prop my arms behind my head. "Oh, you know. I was just thinking that if your shoulders are sore, I could give you a massage."

"Sounds like a good excuse to get your hands close to my neck," Link says flatly.

"Thrice damn it, Link, I can't show concern for you now?"

My answer is that stupid damned cat yowling and jumping onto the couch between us. I stare down at it; it stares right back at me. "What do you want, cat?"

"His name is Japas." Link reaches over with his uninjured hand and scratches the cat behind its ears. "You don't make any sense, Dark. You've attacked me twice, but then you kiss my wrist and offer a massage. What do you really want?"

It's not like I've been lying about what I want. Sure, I want to touch him, but really, I'm fine with just knowing he's feeling better. "Maybe I just want you to be comfy. Is that really such a strange thought? Besides, I wasn't trying to hurt you when I attacked you. Wasn't trying to hurt you on the sparring field, either."

"If you weren't trying to hurt me, then why did you _attack_ me? That still doesn't make any sense."

Haven't we already been over this? "I attacked you to see if you could defend yourself, like I've _already told you_. The point was to see your reaction, not to hurt you. And maybe I feel like I need to make you feel better instead of constantly throwing more shit at you. Is that so hard to understand?"

He looks at me and then the cat in turn, scowling. "Is that so hard to understand?" he repeats. "Do you even need to ask me that? Yes, this is hard to understand! None of this makes sense."

I sigh. "I'm sorry. I know this isn't easy. Like I said before, I'm not used to actually meeting up with you before things get serious. Usually, the Master Sword's awake; you've come to at least _some_ terms with the whole Chosen Hero thing. I'm not trying to bury you with this, I swear."

"Then why now? Why did you pull me over that night? Why not just wait until...?" He shakes his head and goes back to staring at the cat.

"Guess I just got impatient. I mean, you of all people _have_ to have noticed that the Legendary Hero tends to be pretty young when he does all his heroing." Do the legends mention that? Y'know, now that I think about it, I don't really know much about the legends themselves.

"Okay. The hero is a young man. What does that have to do with my question?"

I sigh and grin. It's only the answer to the question, but sure, let me spell it out. "Every other Link finished his battles and was well into the aftermath of Pigman long before he got to your age."

"You mean..."

"Yeah. I've never had to wait until you were twenty-six before. So, yes, I kinda got tired of waiting and decided to show up. Besides, I figured that you might actually listen to me since you're in the Project and all."

"You've never done this before?"

I cross my arms. "I've met Link before he became a hero, yes. Usually, he never remembered me because they were quick little meetings. I've never done the whole exploring graveyards and getting the Master Sword thing. And I've never been the one to tell you that you're the Hero before."

"Again, why _now?_ Just because you're impatient?"

"Maybe I just wanted to see you. Maybe I just wanted to know you're safe. I don't know. A lot of stuff seems different this time around. I figured I might as well try something different, too. I know it doesn't make much sense, but I swear I didn't decide this to torment you or anything. Also, I'm really not doing a damned good job at the whole 'not throwing more shit at you' thing, am I?" No, I'm not. Fuck, I'm just making it worse, aren't I?

I cringe and hold my hands up in what he hopefully recognizes as a peaceful gesture. "I swear to Din, Nayru, and Farore that I'm not trying to kill you or maim you or drive you insane."

Link stares at me for a long moment before burying his head in his hands and massaging his temples. "This is completely _absurd_."

"Hey, I mean it."

"But why would --? Farore, I really _am_ losing my mind. Can we just not talk about this now? I don't think my head can take any more of this."

"Sorry." I'm just trying to help here, not that it seems to be doing me any damned good. This is getting kind of frustrating, so I get up and walk back to his room just to give him a moment. He doesn't respond.

The Master Sword looks weird on his desk now, awkward and out of place, almost like he's studying it. But then he probably will, won't he? He's putting a lot of mental effort into analyzing this whole thing, so of course he's going to focus on the sword. Probably going to spend a lot of time with the legends trying to match descriptions or something. Does he even believe me when I tell him it's the blade of evil's bane? I guess I haven't really given him enough proof about that after all.

A few days ago, I was certain that once Link saw the Master Sword, he'd believe me. Now, seeing it here, I can really only ask myself if this was really a good idea. Maybe he has a point. Maybe I should've just kept my stupid mouth shut, left the Master Sword sleeping, waited until Hyrule needed Link...

Whatever. No real point dwelling on the what ifs now. I mean, the Master Sword isn't in the Great Palace anymore, and I doubt Link would be willing to put it back. It's here, in its hero's house, where exactly _nobody_ expects it to be.

Sooner or later, those pig-worshiping assholes are going to come up with a plan they're competent enough to pull off. Right now, they're really just a group of idiots who meet up in secret places at night to worship their stupid dead pig-faced so-called _god_ and talk shit about how the Royal Family is stupid and Hyrule is all fucked up and _one of these days_ the great Lord Ganon will return and rule the world as he's meant to. Tch, because that's always worked out so well for Pigman in the past.

It's going to get dangerous soon. If Link's here, then _someone_ is going to start _something_. Pigman has his ways, even when he's dead.

Yeah, I think I prefer having the Master Sword here, even if Link can't use it. Worst case scenario, I can get to it easier here... though I really don't want to have to use it myself. I don't feel like myself when I wield it, and I really don't like that feeling.

I reach over and pat the scabbard a couple of times. I'll wield it if I have to, I guess, but I'd be a lot more comfortable if it's in Link's hand. But that's not my decision to make, so there's really no point dwelling on that either.

Now, let's see. With all of this paper on this desk, there has to be something I can write on... there we go. I write my phone number and address down in case Link needs or wants to talk to me later. And just to make damned sure he sees it later, I set the paper right on top of the scabbard.

There.

"So," I say as I walk back out front, "is there anything you need me to do? Heavy lifting, carrying something, anything you need two hands for? You need to go easy on that wrist for a few days."

"Dark, I'll be fine. My wrist is sore, not broken."

"Yeah, but it still needs rest so it can heal. Seriously, I don't care how stupid it is, if there's something you need done, I'll do it. It's the least I can do after hurting you. And throwing so much at you."

"You drove Epona and me home. That's plenty. I think what I need is..." he grimaces. "I need some time to think this over. It hasn't really sunken in yet. Give me the chance to sleep and to sort all of this out, and then... maybe we can talk then."

He looks even more tired now. I've got to admit I'm impressed how quickly he exhausts himself with thought alone. Normally, this level of exhaustion needs hours of running and fighting and navigating dungeons to kick in. "Yeah, sleep will help a lot, so if you don't need a hand with anything, then I'll get out of your way."

"I'm _fine_ , Dark. You drove me home. You carried in my gear. You've already done more than enough."

"Okay. See you later?"

He nods. "See you later."

I nod back at him, grab my jacket, and leave. It's almost sunset, so do I see if I can catch a bus or reform my motorcycle? Decisions, decisions. The parking lot here is larger and less cramped than the one at my place, but I should still be able to pull it off as long as I'm careful where I stand, but...

Let me think. The next meeting is next week, not this one, so I don't have anywhere to be tonight. Yeah, I'm more interested in getting back to my place and grabbing something to eat than I am in lurking in the parking lot reforming my bike. Might spend a while looking through my albums. I'm in a reminiscing mood after being out at the Great Palace again.

I look up at the sky as I walk towards the bus stop. There are clouds off to the west, orange-red and pink and yellow; the sky almost looks like it's on fire. It makes me remember telling Link how I've never had to wait this long before. I wasn't lying. Every other Link had finished his hero business by this point.

I've watched Link _die_ before twenty-six. More than once, because just once wasn't enough.

When I get to the bus stop, I lean against the shelter and close my eyes. Even the best memories fade over the years, but I still remember each Link's more distinctive features. Long, red hair worn Gerudo-style and held back from his face with a narrow twist of green cloth; he spoke Hyrulean with a heavy Gerudo accent. Neatly-trimmed white hair and chin strip matched with a perpetually icy stare; his black armor and green cloak come to mind, too, even if they dredge up more bad memories. Dark brown hair, almost black, and always wearing his guard uniform; I still can't think about silver arrows without thinking about him.

And the most recent. This Link calls him Ganon's Slayer. Brown hair, green and brown clothing... he looked so peaceful on the boat right before I set it -- I lower my head and clench my fists. Fucking monsters. Fucking holy sword. Fucking destiny. _Fucking Pigman and his miserable fucking existence._ This is all his doing. _He's_ the reason for this. It's all because of _him_ that Link can't just have a normal life. Just fucking _once_ , it'd be nice to see that.

Like this Link. He could do all of his history stuff, maybe even end up as the Royal Historian himself one day. The legends could all just be interesting stories for him to study. He wouldn't need to write his own. But I know that's just wishful thinking, because I've seen men and monsters groveling at Pigman's metaphorical feet with my own damned eyes.

Y'know what? Fuck it; I'm going to the park tonight any damned way. There might just be a meeting there after all.

Until Pigman shows up, I'll just take all my frustrations out on his worthless minions. Spilling some blood sounds _perfect_ right about now.

\---

I lock the door behind Dark and then fall back against it. We can talk once I sort this out; what kind of a lie is that? Did he really believe me, or is he just humoring me? He seems to mean it when he says he's concerned about me, but is that just a ruse or...? It doesn't matter either way. _None_ of this matters right now, because I'm too tired for any of this.

My wrist is aching again, too. I take another dose of pain medicine and throw the ice pack back into the freezer before heading to my room and closing the door. The Master Sword is a dark, unfamiliar, oddly-shaped form on my desk, one that catches my eyes for a moment before I remember what it is and why it's there. That doesn't change the fact that it looks so out of place.

What's that paper? It's Dark's telephone number and address. Contact information. It's funny. I've been trying to remember to ask for this ever since we met, but now that he's given it to me, I don't feel like I've accomplished anything. At least, it means I don't have to wait for him to come find me anymore. I'm sure I'll have plenty of questions for him later, so there's that.

I turn towards my bed, ready to flop onto it, and scowl at the bags on it. Did Dark have to put all of them on my bed? Wait, is that where I told him to put them? I don't even remember at this point. I barely remember telling him which room was mine. I move the tall bag to the chair in the corner, while I just toss my saddlebags next to the chair for lack of a better place. I don't feel like unloading my camping gear single-handed, so I'll do it later. I also need to remember that I'll have to refuel Epona next time I'm out, whenever my wrist recovers enough that I can drive.

This is what I get for letting Dark talk me into playing swordsman, I think as I gently massage my sore wrist. No, more like this is what I get for letting Dark talk me into taking that trip in the first place. First the graveyard and now this; why do I keep letting him talk me into dangerous things?

Farore, why do I keep trusting him? At this rate, I'm going to end up in the hospital.

I sit on my bed and look over at the dark form of the sword on my desk. Some part of me is convinced that it is, but is this _really_ a sacred sword? Can it actually choose who wields it, or am I just the first person to come along and draw it? I drew it from the stone, and I can hold it, but am I the only one who can? If Dark's my shadow, then the fact that he can touch it neither proves nor disproves that I'm the only one who can wield it. Therefore, the only way to determine if there really is something unusual about this sword is to have someone else try to pick it up. Which means I have to tell someone else that it exists and let them get close enough to touch it. Just considering that makes my gut feels like it's tying itself in a knot. Who would believe me? This old, corroded, time-worn sword is a sacred blade? _The_ sacred Hero's Blade?

And what happens if Dark's right? If I _am_ the only one who can wield it, then what happens if someone else tries? Will it just not let them lift it? Will it lash out at them somehow? Can I really test this if it means someone has to get hurt?

But if I don't, then there's no proof that this Master Sword is anything more than a very old sword, except for my dreams or memories or visions or hallucinations or whatever the damned things are. It's all in my head or in Dark's word, and neither of those are solid, testable evidence of anything other than vivid imagination. I can't prove any of this, even though I know I'm right and Dark's right and the blade of evil's bane that has saved Hyrule untold times is _sitting on my desk_ and --

I'm not getting anywhere like this. I'm just exhausting myself more than I already am.

In just a couple of days, I have to be back at the Project. The shipment from the Archives Vault should be there by then unless something happened. There's going to be a _lot_ of new material to sort through and translate and work with. I have to be ready for that.

Right now, though, I'm just not. How am I supposed to feel right now? I feel drained, like I'm just going through the motions. I probably am. Maybe I should've stayed in Waypoint another night, but maybe my own bed and my own room can help me feel more like myself. I'm not out in crumbling ruins surrounded by mountains full of monsters. I'm in my room, in my apartment, in the middle of Northcastle.

The front door opens and closes. I have just enough time to wonder if Dark came back for some reason before I hear Mikau talking to Japas. That's good. I don't want to deal with Dark for a couple of days. I know he's just trying to answer my questions and prove he's telling the truth, but... history and truth are just so _heavy._

The heroes... Did they ever have moments like this? Moments where reality seems to rush in to crush them? How did they get through it? I wish I could ask them.

Maybe figuring out a way to deal with all of it is one of those things heroes have to do. I turn my radio on and then fall onto my back and stare up at the ceiling fan. I just can't group myself in with them. They risked their very lives for Hyrule. I'm just a linguist and lore historian who listens to his shadow too much.

Does our shipment have any weapons in it? If it does, then I can use that as an excuse to ask about cleaning old blades. There has to be a way to clean the Master Sword. Maybe once it's clean, it'll look more like what it is. And if it looks like what it is, I might be able to show it to Vael and see what he thinks about it.

The music is helping, and so is working on a plan. I think I'll get through this, as long as I don't let Dark talk me into any more trips for a while.

I've had enough risk-taking for a long time. I'd rather just stay here in Northcastle, where I'm safe.


	11. Chapter 10

Campus is a sight for sore eyes, especially the Historical Studies Building. Not even the weird vibration rising up from below the first floor can make me any less glad to be back here. It must be coming from the basement; the sensation gets weaker once I reach the second floor.

There are several notes taped to my door. The shipment has arrived and is currently being held in the basement. I'll need a keycard to get through the new security door; Ralph is handling those. Some of the books and scrolls are in Storage Room 7, and pictographs are being taken starting with the most fragile pieces.

Then does that mean the vibration is magic? That doesn't make sense; it's so strong.

Another note is on my desk, neatly folded. I know it's from Vael even before I open it. He prefers leaving notes and such on my desk instead of my door, even if I don't know how he gets in here. It should probably bother me more, but he never takes anything. He just magics his way in or however he does it and leaves what he wants to leave.

In this case, it's a short note mentioning that Storage Room 4 is his private workspace, should I need him and that Chambers has been unavailable more than he usually is. The note is folded around a keycard. Oh, okay. That saves me some effort.

I grab one of my notebooks and head for the basement. Since I've got a way in, I might as well go see what we have to work with.

Someone has been _really_ busy down here. The entire wing of classrooms we've been using as makeshift storage and work rooms is blocked off by thick, heavy security doors. When did this even happen? I know I've been out for a week, but this still seems to have practically appeared overnight.

The vibration I felt upstairs is much stronger down here. The air in the hallway feels thicker than normal, so heavy with magic that I can hear it without even having to listen for it. It's a strange sound, like a soft, gentle song being played over a distant howling wind. I've never heard anything quite like it before. It's _eerie_ , especially since I can't tell which room it's coming from. I swear the sound is moving.

In Storage 7, Ralph is giving instructions to a couple of people attaching a pictobox to the very bulky-looking mount looming over a well-lit table. The strange song-and-wind is much quieter in here, and the weight in the air is considerably less noticeable. That's a relief.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" I ask.

"Huh? Oh, hey, Link. Good to see you!" Ralph grins. "Come on in. I'm just letting our pictographers know what we need from them."

They're not our usual pictographers; I don't recognize either of -- wait. Is that Dark? Yes, that _is_ Dark, in jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt with "Trust me; I'm an expert" written on it, though he's too focused on the pictobox to notice me. What is _he_ doing _here?_

Ralph looks at me questioningly and then follows my gaze. "Oh, right! These two are from the pictography program. We've got so much to document that we had to call in some extra help. They shouldn't be in your way, though."

"That makes sense." That seems too simple. I understand that there's a lot to document, but what are the odds that Dark would be one of the students sent over here? Coming to work is supposed to get me away from him. And even if we do need the help, why are we drafting students?

I shake my head and decide to start as far from Dark and his pictobox as I can. I hear him and Ralph and the other student talking, and by the time I get my gloves and face mask on, someone leaves the room. There's still someone in here with me; I hear things being moved.

"Hey, do you know where that guy went? He was incredibly specific about how the pictos need to be, but he didn't tell me where I'm supposed to start." That's definitely Dark's voice.

No one answers him, so I raise my head. He and I are the only two in here. Wonderful. "No, I don't know where he went."

"Damn. Okay, then. Do _you_ have any idea where I'm supposed to start?"

"I don't even know where _I_ should start. I just got here, remember?"

He grins at me. "Then I'll just follow your lead. Pictos will help you do your work, right? I mean, they're a lot easier to transport than these old things."

That's true. Pictos don't have crumbling pages or fragile spines. "I'm not the only one who's going to need pictographs."

"Yeah, but you're here now, and your redheaded friend left me with every instruction but the important one. I mean, really, I get sent here specifically because I know what I'm doing, but I just had to sit through a fifteen minute lecture on how to pictograph old books. You're lucky that you missed most of it."

"You were sent here, or you came on your own?"

"One of my professors -- specifically, the one handling all of my independent study -- got asked to lend you guys some students for a few days. She trusts my skill, so here I am. I swear I'll stay out of your way."

"So you ended up in here by chance?" I still can't quite believe him.

"Okay, so here's the funny part, Link. I walked in here this morning expecting to pictograph a bunch of jewelry, but something in that storage room is putting off a _lot_ of magic, so nothing's coming out right. Not sure how familiar you are with it, but pictoboxes react weirdly to magical auras. The auras give all the slides weird lights or make everything look washed out. It's all one huge mess."

I nod. Magical interference; I've heard Vael talking about that. It's why there are no pictographs of powerful artifacts, only sketches: trying to take a pictograph primarily captures the auras unless taken from a distance, which defeats the whole purpose of trying to record a nice, clear, up-close image of something. Wait, then how did the ones Dark took of the Master Sword come out? Is it because it's sleeping?

"Completely ruined some slides for me, too," Dark continues, crossing his arms and scowling. "So I ended up getting sent over here to snap books for a while. I'm not getting very far; I didn't know I was doing documents, so I only brought a couple of boxes of slides. _So,_ I'd rather prioritize what you're interested in. I can at least document some pages for you."

I shrug. "All right, if that's how you want to do it. I've already said I don't know where I should start, though, so I don't know what you want me to tell you."

"You're most interested in old legends, right?" He glances at the closed door. "I could help you look for some."

That's right; he can read these books easier than I can! "All right then, anything that might be a scrap of legend or something that could be matched to a legend. You probably already know what we need to look for. Just, er --"

"Don't worry." Dark gives me a broad, conspiratorial grin. "I'm just a pictography student. I can't actually _read_ any of these things."

Maybe having him in here _isn't_ such a bad thing. I smile back. "Then we should get started. Make sure you wear gloves and a mask while you're handling these. They're damaged enough already."

"Yeah, yeah. You act like I'm not used to dealing with old things."

"Dark, I remind _everyone_ to wear gloves and masks. This is one of those things I get paranoid about. Take care of the books. That isn't a request."

He just laughs, but he does put them on. Good.

The books don't seem to be in any real order, though they're at least grouped together by their apparent age. Some of them are so damaged I'm leery about opening them. I don't even know which one to try first. Are these books about a single topic, or are they journals? Probably a mix of both, but I really can't know until I read them.

I pick a book at random, one called _Records of the Hyrulean Mages' Council, Volume 2_ , and ease it open somewhere in the middle, skimming the page. Even at a quick glance, I can pick out references to some means of seal and a 'dark realm', and those sound potentially worthwhile. I ease the book closed and set it next to Dark's pictobox rig.

"Find something?"

"Something I'd like to translate, anyway."

He walks over and flips the book open, reading. "Oooh, yeah, this is _right_ up your alley. I'll get started."

I give him a sharp glare for that flip. "Watch the spine! And are you sure you aren't just saying that?"

"Tch, I'm not going to break anything. And no, I mean it. I don't know if this specifically mentions the hero, but what I read is _definitely_ describing one of the times the hero was needed." He sets another book down next to the first before carefully positioning the first on a stand underneath the bulky rig. "So how am I supposed to do this anyway? I don't have enough slides to do the whole thing."

Of course he doesn't. I don't want to know how many slides it'd take to copy an entire book, but I don't know what passages I need, either. "For now, just get the first couple of dozen pages or so, especially if you can find a table of contents or a summary or something. Enough that I can hopefully get an idea of what's in the book and find it later if I want to come back to it."

"Works for me." He chuckles at that. "Is that what I need to do next time we spar? Threaten your books?"

I glare harder. " _Dark_ , I'm being _serious_. If you damage anything, I'll have you thrown out. I don't care what my boss wants -- I won't tolerate _anyone_ being cavalier with delicate old documents, _not even you._ "

He flinches and holds up his hands. "All right, all right. I'm _joking._ "

"Good." I don't like being mean, but... I sigh inwardly and turn my attention back to the books in front of me.

How _are_ we going to copy all of these books? I don't know. I usually work off of much more recent and durable reprints of texts, but my sources tend to be a lot younger than anything in here. I'm probably going to have to make my own copies, aren't I? Either that or work straight from the time-worn source. I need more notebooks.

What's in the oldest-looking ones? I adjust my gloves and carefully move one with 'reports' in its title to a bookstand before easing it open to a random page near the middle. Oh, wow, this one's old. It takes a long time, and I have to copy the text down in my notebook before I can make any sense of it.

It seems to be part of a record of diplomatic negotiations between Hyrule and a Goron settlement about opening a mine in Goron territory. Now I know it's old; the Gorons haven't made contact with Hyrule in centuries.

I keep picking my way through the rest of the report. It isn't that interesting, at least to me. Yes, it's a well-detailed account of the negotiations, but it's still talking about a mine.

I open to another random page further in the book. Is this all negotiation records, or is there something else in here?

"You're still over here?" Ralph asks. He's leaning in the partially-open door, staring at Dark.

"Uh, yeah. I'm documenting your old books," Dark replies. "Like you told me to."

Ralph sighs. "How long will it take you to move your rig? We need you in Storage 3. Bossman's _really_ insistent on getting those pictographed today."

"Good to know. So does this mean you've found the source of the interference? This rig isn't that easy to transport, y'know. I'm not moving it back and forth all day."

"The problem should be dealt with, yes," Ralph says flatly. "Can you please go over there now?"

"I'll be there in a moment."

"Thank you." The door closes.

Dark groans. "'Dealt with', huh? Not sure I can believe that. He didn't even notice the damned interference -- _I_ told _him_ when it ruined some of my slides." He removes his pictobox from the bulky rig, swaps out the slides for fresh ones, and leaves, muttering curses to himself the whole time.

I shake my head and go back to my reading. Now, where was I? The book is still discussing the mine, now established and active. This page is a letter describing a large infestation of Dodongos in the mines and requesting help clearing out the beasts.

I hear angry voices out in the hall, followed by a knock and even more angry voices. I can't focus properly with an argument raging right outside the door, so I decide to see what set off _this_ one.

" -- what my magic classes _said_ would work!" Ralph protests.

"That only works for _simple magics!_ " Vael snaps at him. "More powerful magics need more powerful shielding; even a _basic_ magic class should have taught you _that_ much! I thought I had already firmly established that this is _not_ a normal aura."

"Hey, this is all I've got to work with here! I was told that vase would be moving to isolation this morning."

Vael raises his hand as if he's going to point or gesture or something, but then he just scowls in disgust and lets his arm drop back to his side. "If we _had_ an isolation room available, it would _be_ in isolation. I've already told you that it won't be ready until the end of the week at best, and all of this idiocy is only causing more delays!"

"I don't care _who_ is causing _what!_ " I hear Garrimed snarl from down the hall. " _Some_ of us are trying to do our jobs, so _keep it down!_ " A door slams; the echo booms down the hall.

Dark, who's been standing off to one side scowling this whole time, is the one to break the awkward silence with a low whistle. "Oh- _kay_ then. Not to be rude here, but I was sent over here to take pictos. If we're going to spend all our time bickering instead of doing something about it, why am I even _here?_ I mean, it's not like you need my help pissing off your co-workers."

Ralph tries to shrug and cringe at the same time. "You're the pictographer; don't you have something that will work?"

"If I did, why would I waste my time asking you about it? We wouldn't even be _having_ this discussion."

Vael snatches off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. " _Fine!_ It's obvious that I'm the only person in the entire Project who has the _slightest_ clue how magic works! Just put the thing in my room for now, and don't you _dare_ ruin any of the wards I've placed."

"Sounds good," Dark says. "Which room is yours?" Vael points with the hand holding his glasses.

Ralph shakes his head and waves a hand dismissively towards Dark. "Oh, no. No no no no no. There is _no way_ I'm letting some random pictography student carry _anything_. I'll move it."

"Tch, whatever. As long as I can take some damned pictos, I don't care who does what."

"This won't clear all of the interference, but we can only eliminate so much." Vael slides his glasses back on. "Your images will be much clearer now."

"All I needed to hear." Dark shakes his head as he walks back towards Storage 3.

Vael sighs heavily, his shoulders slumping. "Do you need anything else, Ralph?"

Ralph reaches up and smooths his hair. "I think that's it. Look, I... I'm sorry for all the interruptions. I know I'm not helping, but I'm kind of running blind here, you know?"

Vael nods slightly; the motion shakes a clump of hair from his already messy bun. "I apologize as well. I shouldn't be taking my frustrations out on you."

"Nah, I get it. It's been _really_ frustrating lately since Boss-man hasn't been around. I just wish I knew what my uncle is thinking. We put in extra security and we're all supposed to be extra cautious and all that crap, but now there are these random pictography students, and I can't even get proper shielding for the really magical stuff." Ralph grumbles something under his breath. "Guess I need to move that vase. I know it's just going to be in your way, so as soon as those students are finished, I'll move it back."

"I believe I have words for our esteemed leader once he finally decides to show himself again. As for the vase..." Vael crosses his arms. "I need a break anyway. I will appreciate you moving it back, however."

"Works for me. I'll probably call it a day once the students leave." As Ralph turns towards Storage 3, I can just hear him mutter "I'm not being paid enough for this shit."

Vael turns around, only to take a step back, startled, when he sees me.

"Sorry," I say, pulling my mask down and raising my hands. "I heard angry voices and wondered if everything was all right." Although if I'm being honest, if the argument hadn't involved Vael, I probably would've just yelled for them to keep it down like Garrimed did.

Also Garrimed is down here? Chambers is _serious_ about keeping everything together and secure, isn't he?

"I should apologize, not you. That was uncalled for." Vael looks so _tired_. It makes him look even paler than normal.

"Did something happen?"

He doesn't answer immediately. "It's... I honestly don't know where to begin. Everything about this shipment has been botched since day one. Somehow, the Royal History Project can't even arrange for a properly-warded isolation room despite the fact that it just received a shipment including _several_ magical pieces. I would like to think that the _Royal Historian_ would be able to contact a mage who has more than a beginner's knowledge of wards!"

But how hard would it be to get someone from the Academy to come ward a room for us? I mean, someone installed the security doors... "Wow."

"The sad truth is that _that_ is only the newest problem." He shakes his head. "I assume that Historian Chambers hasn't told you anything about our shipment, correct?"

"I haven't even seen him today, so no. All I know is what I've seen in Storage 7."

"I thought as much. Suffice it to say that --"

If he says anything else, I don't hear it. A door opens, and the air suddenly gets heavy, looming over me and pressing down on my shoulders like a massive weight. The song-and-wind that I heard earlier rushes back with a vengeance, and for a brief moment, all I hear is howling wind and a rage-filled _roar_ that rings in my ears. The song quickly rises and drowns it out, but for a moment, it sounds and feels like a massive beast is squeezed in the hallway with us.

I turn towards the sound. Ralph has the door to Storage 3 held open with his back, both arms wrapped around a large gray _thing_.

"What is _that?_ " I gasp. Some kind of magic, but what magic feels like _this?_

"Isn't it obvious?" Ralph says as he steps forwards and lets the door close. "It's a really creepy vase. Also? I'm _really_ glad I can't feel what you guys feel."

"You don't feel anything?" He has to feel something, right?

"I didn't say _that_ , did I? This thing is warmer than it should be, but magic does weird things sometimes, right?" He walks into Vael's room and sets the vase on one of the tables. "Still, it's creepy, and I don't know why my uncle seems so interested in it. Anyway, I'll be back for it in a few hours."

"Bring a _cart_ with you!" Vael snaps. Ralph doesn't answer; he just walks off, rubbing his palms and flexing his fingers.

The vase looks so simple. Black and gray except for red wax covering the cork... It doesn't _look_ creepy, really, especially now that it doesn't feel like a massive looming beast in the room. If not for that wind and the roar, it would be easy to overlook it. All I hear right now is the song, soft and gentle, along with a strange rhythmic puff or breeze or something. I know it isn't part of the song, but I still hear it. Weird.

Vael slides the vase closer to the center of the table. "You felt something, didn't you?"

I nod; there's really no point in denying it. "But why would someone enchant a vase?"

"To contain something, obviously." He hesitates and seems to brace himself before continuing. "There is a presence sealed inside that vase, something that has been inside for a very, very long time..." Then he stares down towards the table, his gaze weirdly unfocused and distant. "I haven't told anyone other than Historian Chambers, but I felt that you should know. Whatever presence lurks in that vase, it's awake. And it's aware."

That's an eerie thought. "You mean it knows that it's sealed?"

"Yes, and it seems to be actively fighting the magic that binds it within that vase."

If that's the case, then the song I still hear is the seal, and that howling and roaring is whatever is sealed away? What does that _mean?_ "This came from the Archives Vault? Why would they send us something like this?"

"I don't believe that the vase was ever intended to leave that vault. You see, last week, Ralph and I discovered that our shipment was missing one of the crates it was supposed to contain according to the shipping manifest. Instead, we received a crate that held this vase. Historian Chambers is apparently captivated by it, so much so that he insists I do everything possible to determine what is inside and how long it has been here." He closes his eyes and sighs heavily, his shoulders drooping. "I don't know how damaged the seal is. I don't know how old and decayed the magics are. I don't know what _other_ magics are on the vase or what condition _they're_ in. There are so many unknowns surrounding this vase that I'm leery about doing too much."

"Then why not just send it back or keep it in storage? This sounds dangerous."

"Quite, but you know how Historian Chambers gets when he finds something intriguing."

Oh, _right_. He did say Chambers was captivated by this thing. Then there's no getting rid of it. I bet Chambers is going to ask me to find information on it, too. "I guess you're right, but... Is this thing why you need an isolation room?"

"Yes. To prevent interference from outside, and to protect the other artifacts from the magic rolling off of the vase. Just sharing a crate with it during transit has damaged several other pieces," Vael scowls at that, "though I seem to be the only one who cares."

He glares around the room. "But yes, that is why I requested an isolation room. I fully intended to use one at the Academy, but Historian Chambers prefers I stay here. Hence the pathetic excuse for a warded room we have here."

Pathetic excuse? I admit the only magic I hear is the vase's song, but... I look around the room. There are wards chalked all around the room in a myriad of colors, but the vast majority of them have smudged streaks through them, like someone swiped an eraser through each to intentionally destroy them. Thy still have some magic, but once I focus, I hear little more than a faint crackling hum.

The few wards that aren't partially erased cover part of one wall; they're considerably more detailed than the erased ones, even though they're smaller. They're also much more precise and methodical, consisting of narrow, quick strokes that seem to flow, unlike the thicker and clumsier strokes of the erased ones. The magic of the more precise wards sounds like a breeze.

"You're redoing all of the wards yourself?"

"Not by choice." Vael crosses his arms. "I don't know who Historian Chambers chose to lay these wards, but I do know I recognize most of these from my old Basics of Warding textbook. Considering we have pictography students down here doing our documentation instead of having our own staff handle it... I'm convinced he had some student from the Academy come over and practice rudimentary warding."

"That doesn't sound like him. Maybe he's just that busy, or maybe this is all a miscommunication, or..." I don't know. There has to be an explanation. I mean, Dark didn't just waltz past a security door on a whim.

"The reason doesn't matter, Link. Either way, I have to ward this room myself if I want it done even _somewhat_ correctly. At least this gives me time to decide how I'm going to test this thing." Vael reaches up and undoes his messy bun with a single quick motion; his hair cascades over and behind his shoulders, slightly wavy from being restrained. "I decided that you should know about this. You're familiar with the legends. Has the hero ever sealed anything inside a vase?"

I take a few minutes to think that over. "Not to my knowledge, but that just means I haven't come across it." Maybe it happened but wasn't written down. Maybe it happened but is only recorded in an obscure legend I haven't heard. Maybe it happened but is older than all of the legends I know... in which case it's a miracle that seal hasn't already broken. "Do you know what might happen if the seal breaks?"

"That depends entirely on the thing inside." Vael sounds weary. "Personally, I'd rather not think too much on that. Once I know a bit more about these magics, I may try to reinforce the seal just to ensure that doesn't happen. If you happen across something in the legends, please let me know?"

"Of course."

"Thank you. If I may ask another favor, would you keep an eye on those students?"

"Do you think they're going to cause a problem?" I can understand being leery about having them down here, but I really doubt Dark is going to cause any trouble. For the Project, anyway. He causes plenty for me. Still, there's at least one other student down here somewhere. "I can make sure they don't do anything stupid."

"It isn't that I think they'll cause problems, it's merely that the one from before..." He shakes his head and waves a hand dismissively in the air. "Never mind. I'm simply being paranoid. Let's blame the vase and leave it at that. Thank you for the help; it's one less concern for me."

The one from before... That has to be Dark. What about Dark has Vael worried? I try to put that question out of mind. "Don't worry about it. I'm happy to help."

I start to leave, but I stop in the doorway and glance back at the vase. Why a _vase?_ It seems counter-intuitive to seal something dangerous into such a fragile vessel.

Then again, I'm currently in possession of a bracelet that enhances my strength, a magnifying glass that pierces illusions, and a time-weathered, corroded old sword that at least used to be sacred. Magical things aren't always obvious, and they don't necessarily follow normal logic. Still, it seems weird.

"I owe you for this, Link," Vael says. "I need a break, so if you need me, I'll be upstairs."

I could and probably should go back to slowly sorting through all of those books, but instead, I go over to Storage 3. Neither Ralph nor the other pictography student are in there, though Dark is. He's along the wall farthest from Vael's room, aiming his pictobox at a large silver platter.

"Already told you," he mutters. "I've _got_ this."

"I'm not Ralph," I reply, finding a stool and taking a seat.

"Huh?" He looks over long enough to recognize me before going right back to his pictobox. "For the record, things are working better now. Still not _great_ , but eh, this is supposed to be for documentation, so a few auras here and there shouldn't be a problem. Or if it is, it's not one I can fix. So, anyway, need something?"

"No. I'm just here to keep an eye on you. Where's your classmate?"

"I don't know. Ralph's had us split up all day." He sighs. "Y'know, consistency is a great thing, so if you people would just pick a position and stick with it... Tch, first it's fine that I'm in here alone, then you have to come babysit. If you can't trust me, why'd I get past the security door?"

"Dark," I say flatly, "I don't even know why you're here in the first place. The Project has a couple of pictographers on staff, so I don't know why random pictography students are doing their job." And Vael thinks a student did his wards, though Chambers _did_ go to the expense and effort to have that security door installed, _and_ this shipment is special enough that Garrimed apparently has to come over here to do his work instead of just taking it back to the Metalcrafting building, so how protective and secretive are we supposed to _be_ down here?

"Yeah, well, it's not like anyone's told _me_ anything. I went in this morning, and my professor sent me over here. All she told me was that the Project needed extra pictographers and that she had picked me for the job. Past that, I'm just trying to get this over with." He swaps his slides for a new set and shifts his attention to a group of goblets. "It's a real pain in the ass dealing with people who don't know what they want."

"I can't really help you with that. I'm in the same position, remember?"

"You _can_ go back to your books. I'm not going to steal anything."

I give him an exasperated look, not that he can see. "Dark..."

"What? It's true. I won't break anything. I won't steal anything. I won't even _move_ anything. I'll even be a good boy and let myself out when I'm done."

"That's not the only reason I'm here."

He rocks his head sideways and glares at me. "Okay, but it's still a _lot_ of it."

I hold my hands up in defeat. "These things are priceless. There are people who'd take advantage of it. We're _all_ paranoid about this. This isn't because we hate you, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He shakes his head. "Doesn't make it any less annoying."

"I'm not in here to annoy you. I just came in here because I was asked to keep an eye on you."

" _Tch._ "

"Besides," I continue, "there's something I wanted to ask you about."

He sets his pictobox down and turns to face me. "Find something in one of your books?"

"Not exactly, no." I check the door, but no, the door is still closed and it's still just Dark and me in here. "Do you remember if any of the heroes helped seal something into a vase?"

"A vase? Not off the top of my head. Give me some time to think it over, and maybe... Want me to come by your place later?"

He's awfully quick to invite himself over, but he has a point. This isn't something I'm comfortable talking about just anywhere, and the most private places we have are our apartments. "I don't know what my roommate's plans are. What about your place?"

Dark gives me a small grin at that. "I don't have a roommate, so sure, just swing by on your way home from work. You have my address, right?"

"Yes." The paper he wrote it on is in my bag, just in case of something like this.

"Good. Then I'll see you tonight. Going back to your books now, or do I still need watching?"

I don't know. Vael wants me to keep an eye on Dark, but at the same time, I should be working. I'm pretty sure Dark's just going to do his job and then leave. I mean, he's been trustworthy so far. I can't be the only one who thinks that either; Dark said his instructor sent him over here, so...

I'm giving myself a headache. "Just don't cause any problems, okay? I'm not saying you _will_. I'm just saying we've got already got more than enough trouble. I'll see you later."

"Yeah, yeah. I know what I'm doing. Go have fun with your books. I've got this."

"All right. And thanks." I can't believe I'm willingly agreeing to this, but this is tame compared to what I've already done. I mean, we're just meeting at his apartment to talk, not going to an old graveyard or a canyon full of monsters or anything like that. This should be simple.

Then again, isn't that what I thought about both of those before I left?

I go back to Storage 7 and pull my mask back into place. Worrying about the present can wait; I have a room full of history to delve into.

\---

Every time I close my eyes, even if it's just to blink, old text floats before me. When my eyes are open, everything is fuzzy. It makes it hard to focus on the road. I take advantage of a red light to flip up my visor and rub my eyes. The world is still blurry, but it's better.

Even so, I shouldn't be driving. Thankfully, Dark's apartment is closer to campus than mine is. The drive still takes at least twice as long as it should, but I make it without running into anything. That's something.

It doesn't take long to find his apartment even with my wonky vision. I walk up to the landing with his door, and there my nerves take over. I don't know why I'm so antsy. This is normal; I'm just visiting a friend at his apartment. If I can call Dark a "friend". I'm not sure what to call him besides confusing.

I close my eyes, shake my head, and knock.

"Door's open!" is the reply.

How does he know it's me? No, who else would it be? I let myself in.

The first thing I notice about his apartment is that Dark has a lot of weapons. Just from here by the door I can see a sword, three different knives, some kind of hammer, two bows, a crossbow, and a spear. Something large, metallic, and deep red rests against one side of his couch, but I can't see enough to tell what it is.

He also has a lot of picto albums. One shelf has a neat row of matching leather-clad albums embossed with gold. The rest of his bookcase has more basic-looking albums, boxes, and several pieces of pictography equipment. His pictobox bag sits next to the sword and his helmet on the low, rectangular coffee table.

The albums and equipment make sense, but why does he have so many weapons? Does he know how to use them all? Is it even legal to own so many? Does his landlord know he's turned his apartment into an armory?

I shove those questions aside for now and kick off my boots, mostly out of habit. "Dark? Are you in here?"

"In the kitchen. I'll be out in a minute; make yourself at home."

Might as well. I leave my boots by the door and set my helmet next to his before sitting down. The couch is comfortable, especially after spending all afternoon on a stool.

Except for all of the weaponry, this place looks normal. It's really not that different from mine. Some sturdy but not fancy furniture, a television, some papers scattered across the table and his jacket thrown over the back of the couch, the scent of fresh coffee in the air... I guess I just expected there to be something off about this place.

Not sure why. When he isn't doing shadow things to freak me out, Dark looks and acts human. I'm sure no one else even suspects a thing.

Dark sits down beside me and holds out a glass. "Here, I bet you're thirsty."

I take it; he's right, of course. And he also knows exactly which soda I prefer, though I try to convince myself it's just because he pays attention to what I order. He's had the chance to do that, so it's not as creepy as it could be. Or so I tell myself. "Thanks."

"So, how'd the books go?"

"I haven't found any legends yet, if that's what you're asking. There are a lot of books, and I've barely even started." I hope I don't have to translate all of them. I'm not the only one in the Project who does translations, but considering everything else that's happened so far... "How'd your pictographs come out?"

He shrugs. "Not my best work, but they'll do unless your boss decides to be pickier about it than I was told." He takes a sip out of his mug. "Oh, right. Tell your friend thanks for me. If not for him, all I'd've done today was waste slides. I would've done it myself, but I just wanted out of there, and last time I saw him, he seemed kinda pissed."

Vael? It must be. I don't think Ralph did much besides move the vase. "I'll let him know. He's... Yeah, he's pretty frustrated."

"I mean, I didn't realize someone that soft-spoken could _get_ upset." Dark chuckles. "It's funny."

"Vael isn't that soft-spoken."

He grins. "Around _you_ , maybe. Seriously, he's so little and quiet. I saw him like three times before the shouting started, and I never heard him say anything. It's hard to picture him pissed off, even though I've seen it. He's like an angry kitten or something; too cute to take seriously."

I frown at him. Vael, a cat? I can _kind of_ see it, but... "All right, seriously now, how long have you been stalking me? And you do remember Vael's a mage, right? That 'angry kitten' could probably hurl you through a wall."

"Maybe he could, but whatever. I can't think your friend is cute?" His grin gets broader. "Are you jealous?"

"No, I'm not jealous!" Why would I be? We're just friends; that's _all_. "Why are you even telling me this?"

Dark shrugs. "Just making an observation."

I shake my head. He's just trying to embarrass me. "I didn't come over here to talk about Vael."

"Right. You came over here to talk about a vase. All right, then..." he takes another drink of his coffee. "Let's talk about your vase."

"Now that you've had the chance to think about it, do you remember _anything_ about something or someone being sealed inside a vase?"

"Sure. I remember _keys_ inside vases, but I don't think that's what you mean."

"No, it isn't. Still, thanks." Damn. I don't regret asking him; I just wish he had a better answer than that. But would he know about it even if he was around at the time?

"Y'know, that's a pretty specific question, so what's up? You find something in one of those old books of yours?"

Should I tell him? I know Vael hasn't mentioned it to him, so he can't know much if anything about it. I shouldn't be telling someone not in the Project about what we have; this is supposed to be secret until we have results to show for it. At the same time, Dark knows a lot more about sealed evils than Vael or I would, so... "You can't tell anyone about this. It has to stay secret."

"I'm good with secrets."

_True_. He's kept the Master Sword and the Great Palace secret for _how long_ now? "Okay. Do you remember that gray-black vase in the storage room?"

"The thing that kept ruining my pictos? Yeah, I remember it."

Here goes nothing. "Vael is convinced that there's some kind of presence sealed inside that vase, and that it wants out."

Dark scowls. "Of course it wants out. I doubt it wanted to be shoved in there in the first place. Still... Huh. That explains those slides. If there _is_ a seal, that's some powerful magic."

"That's why I hoped you knew something." I toy with my glass. "Everything about that vase just feels _wrong_. It felt like it was going to crush us when Ralph moved it to Vael's workroom. Did you feel anything like that?"

"Nah. I suck at the whole 'sensing magic' thing."

"You do? But I've got a strong magic sense, so if you're my shadow --"

"Yeah, it's funny that way. Magic apparently works differently for me than it does for humans like you. I'm best when it comes to shadow magic. I _can_ sense normal human magic when it's strong enough, yeah, but nothing like you can."

That's weird, but it does make sense when I think about it. "Then the vase probably doesn't seem noteworthy to you, does it?"

He shrugs again. "I knew something in that room had to be damned magical just based on the way it ruined those slides. I've caught auras before, but nothing like that. And here I thought you'd get a bunch of boring old books and fragile weapons and random castle treasures, not pissed off evil things sealed in vases."

"I don't know what to think about this, Dark. We weren't even supposed to _get_ this vase, but Chambers wants to study it now that it's in our possession. I understand why, but... It was sealed for a reason." I take a drink. Sure, I want to know who or what it is, why it's there, and who put it there, but it's angry. I don't think it's going to be grateful for its freedom when that seal breaks.

"Y'know, I've always wondered what the logic is behind sealing people away. Like Pigman. He's been sealed away several times, and I honestly don't see what sealing him away accomplished that a blade through the skull didn't. I mean, let's just assume that the vase has some evil guy in it. Why?" Dark rolls his eyes. "Every seal breaks eventually, right?"

I nod.

"So the seal finally breaks, and the evil guy gets loose. Only now he's extra pissed _and_ most likely nobody knows who he is or what makes him so evil in the first place, so he gets to catch _everybody_ off-guard. Seriously, it's a stupid idea. Blade to the face works _so_ much better."

That doesn't make me feel any better about this. "They may have seen it as their only option."

"Apparently." He gulps down the rest of his coffee. "Any idea how old that thing is?"

I swirl the ice around my glass. "No, but I've never heard of it, so it's either older than all the legends I know or just that obscure. Vael's going to try to determine its age and contents once he finishes his isolation room. When I know more, I'll pass it along."

"Sounds good. If I know an age, I might be able to guess at who or what is in there. I'm sure he will be, but tell your mage friend to be careful, okay?"

I've already told Vael that, and it's weird that Dark even cares. "Is something wrong? You don't even know him."

"Eh, maybe I'm just being twitchy, but there's a reason you and I are even here to have this conversation. Somewhere out there is whoever or whatever is going to threaten Hyrule this time around. I'd be surprised if a vase with an evil guy in it _doesn't_ have some connection to our as-yet-unknown threat."

That thought never occurred to me. "Do you think Vael's in danger?"

"Don't know. I'd say it depends on what's in that vase. Most likely, it wants revenge, so unless it happened to be sealed away by a quiet, kitten-like little mage, I'd say he'll be fine."

I give Dark an unimpressed glare. "Vael isn't as harmless as you seem to think he is, Dark. He's an experienced mage, probably one of the best in the entire kingdom."

"Okay, and every time I've seen him that wasn't his screaming match, he looks like he's doing his best to blend into the background. I'm not used to mages acting so _timid_."

"Just how many mages have you even been around?" It can't be that many, can it? I can think of several mages who come across as timid. That doesn't make them lesser mages.

"Several, actually. Some of them were old wise men who acted all knowledgeable and grandfatherly. Some of them were mysterious men in hoods who acted all high-and-mighty. And some of them were beautiful women. I liked them the most. Though most of the mages who weren't trying to kill us _did_ like their books and their studying, so I guess he does still act like what I expect."

I roll my eyes and finish my soda. What does any of this have to do with what I asked? "I came over to see what you knew about that vase, not mages."

Dark shifts so he can lean against the armrest and look at me, grinning all the while. "You did, yes, and I believe we've already discussed everything we can about said vase, which is why I told you to warn your friend. All I'm saying is that there's _something_ about that stupid thing that I really don't like the sound of, and unless you're leaving stuff out, Vael's the one who gets to guard the thing until further notice."

"As far as I know, yes, he's the one in charge of it. All I really know is what Vael has told me, Dark. I'm not a mage; all of my responsibilities are elsewhere."

"Which is why you should tell him to be careful. Not 'cause I think _he's_ going to do something stupid, but 'cause there are _other people_ who might do something stupid."

"Other people? Like someone else from the Project?"

He shrugs. "Like I know? I'm just saying that it's more than a little suspicious that you guys ended up with this thing at all. Sure, they're going to call it an accident or a mistake or something, but really? Don't you think they'd be more careful with this kind of thing? Besides, how many people are in the Project anyway? A couple dozen or more?"

"More. I think all together there's about forty of us." Granted, that 'about forty' is spread across a wide range of subjects and disciplines and includes people like Ralph, but that number sounds about right.

"Exactly. That's a lot of you, and that's a lot _more_ people who might hear something from one of you."

I shake my head. Now he just sounds paranoid. Then again, _I'm_ talking to someone outside of the Project about it... "There aren't many of us who know about the vase, Dark, and only three or four of us know there's something inside it."

"Right now, you mean."

Right. Depending on what Vael can determine, Chambers might be yelling from the rooftops about our discovery in a few weeks or months. And even if he doesn't, there's always the Gala... Who knows how many people will know about the vase by then?

"This isn't making me feel any better, Dark."

"Yeah, well, that's for the future. First thing to worry about is whether or not your friend can figure out anything interesting. Who knows? If it's boring enough, maybe it'll just go back to being forgotten."

Dark has a point there. First, Vael has to do his analysis. Everything depends on his results. There's nothing else I can do right now but wait.

"You all right?"

"No, I'm not." Maybe Dark's just being paranoid. Maybe the vase has nothing to do with why I'm here. Maybe... Farore, there are so many maybes. I let my head fall back against the couch and sigh. And maybe the Master Sword is just a rusty old sword, and maybe Dark is just someone who looks like me by pure random chance. At this point, I can't discount anything.

"I'm dumping shit on you again, aren't I? Sorry."

"It's all right. It's something I need to keep in mind. I was worried about the seal breaking before you said anything. It's just... What am I supposed to do? It feels like everything is in someone else's hands, and all I can do is stand around and wait until something goes wrong. Like..." I wave a hand in the air, searching for the best way to phrase it. "Like I can't be proactive, just _reactive_."

He grins at me. "You _can_ be proactive."

"If you're so sure of that, then _how?_ "

He picks up his sword and looks it over. "Oh, you know. The kind of thing we've already been doing. One sparring session doesn't make you a competent swordsman."

I know that. I also know that I'm only using my wrist today because of rest and painkillers. "Hurting myself doesn't make me competent either."

"Like I said, I got carried away. Besides, with practice, you'll be better at anticipating that kind of thing."

He's right. I know that. "I'll take your word on that."

"Hey, we don't have to do it right this moment. I'm just saying that it's what we can do. You want to be proactive? Then get stronger. We'll make this work, Link. We always have."

I nod weakly. I get what he's saying. Neither of us can control what happens with the vase, but my skill with a sword _is_ under our control. "We'll make this work."

"Exactly. I'll teach you what you need to know, and when the time comes, I'll watch your back. I'm good at that." He raises his sword to me in what looks like a salute.

"You should be considering how much you stalk me," I mutter.

"What can I say? I need you."

"What do you mean?" I turn and give him a confused look.

Dark turns his sword in his hand. "What do you think I mean? I _need_ you, Link. That's how it is. One of us can't exist without the other."

"That doesn't make sense. We do exist without each other. I mean, I didn't even know you existed until last month."

"I don't mean we're two halves of the same person, Link. But we _are_ two halves of the same whole. You're my source. Without you, there is no me. And if it weren't for me, you wouldn't be you." He sounds weirdly contemplative.

And all he's doing is confusing me. "How does that even work?"

"There's a connection between us. I don't know the specifics, but I think it has something to do with the brightest light casting the darkest shadow. Like I have to be separate from you so you can be the Chosen Hero or something."

Is that it? But if that's true, it just proves that I'm _not_ normal. What does this mean? I'm the hero because I was born to be the hero? Is there some special quality I have to possess to be able to draw and use the Master Sword? I don't like the implications of that.

Just what is it that marks me as the hero, anyway? I don't understand any of this.

"This doesn't make sense," I say, closing my eyes and reaching up to massage my head.

"Some things just don't. Besides, it's not like you're the only human to have a shadow. You're just the only human who has a shadow like me."

"Right. I'm the lucky one. I get the shadow who stalks me around and lives in an apartment full of weapons." I keep massaging; it isn't helping.

"Exactly." Dark's voice sounds closer. "You get the shadow who watches your back and is a trained and experienced warrior. See, I can train you with your sword, and no one else has to know that their meek little historian-linguist can handle a blade."

I feel a hand on my head. "Dark..."

"Admit it, I'm right _._ No, I don't know how this all works, but I'm on your side, Link. I always have been." He tugs me sideways; I fall against something warm and solid. "I'm right here, see? I'm not going anywhere."

I should push him away or sit back up or... I don't even know. All I know is that I want things to stop or, if I can't have that, to just let me ignore them for a while. I let my hands drop to my lap.

"You okay?"

No, I'm not okay. I'm overwhelmed, unnerved, and just plain _exhausted_. Some evil will rise, and Hyrule will be devastated, and all of the blame rests on my shoulders. What good is it knowing that disaster looms when I know nothing else about it?

"I'll be all right.”

He taps the top of my head with his knuckles. "That's a lie and we both know it."

I shouldn't be surprised he can tell. "Then what do you want me to say?"

"You don't have to say anything. You're safe here; just rest."

Safe. That's easy for him to say. Dark whispers something I can't make out. I don't bother moving or responding. This position isn't the most comfortable for my back, but at the same time, I don't want to move. I feel better being here like this.

For some reason, I think of flowers. Specifically of being in a field of soft flowers and stray petals. I don't know why flowers, nor why the thought of flowers makes me relax.

I hear whispering again.

\---

Try as I may, I cannot prevent myself from dwelling on the last several days. There is nothing I can change, yet the questions shriek and spiral in my head anyway. What if events had played out differently? Would I have been able to stop that assassin before he injured the princess?

I do not know. All I know is that this hidden little garden is peaceful. The scent of flowers -- so many flowers -- reminds me of the forest. So much so that I can almost forget that I'm still on the castle grounds. I'm alone and laying in a small field of flowers, so why is it that I simply cannot relax, no matter how I try?

I exhale sharply and close my eyes. Focus on the flowers, I tell myself, instead of all of the things that cannot be changed. Dozens of sweet-smelling blossoms bearing hundreds of delicate white petals, swaying back and forth in the faintest of breezes.

I nearly succeed in relaxing, but a sudden weight on my hips yanks me from my near-trance -- someone's _sitting_ on me?! -- and I snap my eyes open.

"Oh, so you _are_ awake," Dark says, grinning down at me.

"I came here to be alone."

"Imagine that. So did I."

"Then I can find some place else if need be."

"Why?" He leans in, bracing his arms against the ground on either side of my head for support. "No one else knows where we are. You and I both know that we've got plenty of time."

"Plenty of time for what?"

Dark rests his forehead against mine, his long hair spilling over his shoulders. "I'm bored. Entertain me."

"If all you want is entertainment, you have no lack of options." What kind of entertainment does he mean? I need to know; I cannot bring myself to ask.

"Maybe. But you look bored, too, so maybe we can entertain each other for a while."

I close my eyes. Aye, I know where this is going now. And yet, even now, even with Dark sitting atop me promising his _entertainment_ , all my mind wants to dwell on is the man with the knife and how poorly it reflects on me that I couldn't stop him. All this accomplishes is making myself sick with worry.

" _Link_. Are you going to answer me?"

I need to focus on what I have control over, especially given Dark's impatience. "And how do you propose we entertain each other? I trust you have more in mind than merely sitting on me."

"Oh, do I." He chuckles. "You can start by taking off that damned uniform. Why are you always wearing that thing, anyway?"

"I am a knight of Hyrule, Dark." That isn't the entire truth, but it's truth enough. In uniform, I am merely another knight. I'm not the mighty hero in green that everyone recognizes at a single glance.

"Yeah, well, that still doesn't mean you have to wear that stupid thing all the time. You're not being a knight today, now are you? Take it off." He leans back with a scowl, his hands rising from the flower-covered ground to tug at the laces on my collar.

It's merely a uniform. Why does it bother him so much? Is it merely because it isn't green, or is there more to his dislike? "I can't take off my uniform while you sit on me."

He looks frustrated. "All right, then, _here_." He springs to his feet, white petals raining down from his black clothing. "Now I'm not sitting on you, so take it off."

I rise to a sit and work off first my belt and then my surcoat. Dark chuckles and sits beside me, wearing only his breeches.

"That was rather quick of you, wasn't it?" I say dryly before tugging my overshirt over my head.

He grins, flashing his fangs. "The faster we get naked, the more time we have to be bored together, right?"

 


End file.
